Catch the Thunder
by Wild Rhov
Summary: Freed has been frequenting a gay strip club to watch his favorite dancer, "Thor." One night, what started as a simple lap dance turned into much more, and Freed decides to figure out who this man with the electric blue eyes really is. Does he dare try to "catch the thunder"? Modern AU, BDSM, riding crops, electrostim kink.
1. The Thunder God

_A/N: I know a vast majority of my readers are in an uproar because I haven't updated "Fight Me, Bite Me." Here's the issue: I had a seizure, fell hard, and broke my wrist. I can't type for more than 2 minutes without pain, and one-handed typing is seriously tiring. So while I'm in a wrist brace for 6 weeks, I'll give you this story I've been working on for a year, one chapter a week, while I heal from my injury. No Gratsu, but maybe this will appeal to a different crowd._

_I'll be honest, this was originally going to be about Natsu and Gray, but I have plenty of those fics. I've never written for Laxus and Freed before. I hope it's okay._

_**Modern AU.**_

_**Note**__: I hate math and didn't feel like converting money into Jewels. Consider this story to be based in America, with U.S. currency. To my knowledge, these are the current going rates … you know, just in case you were ever curious about lap dances._

* * *

**Catch the Thunder**

a _Fairy Tail_ fanfic

by Rhov

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Chapter 1

**The Thunder God**

"I think I get it, Bob," Freed said as he stared at a red-lit stage. "I'm a masochist."

The bald bartender with too much makeup giggled at the confession. "Nothing wrong with being an M. I've seen your fencing matches on the tele. A swordsman like you takes pain well."

"Nah, not that type … I think," he added, really unsure what he thought about the kinkier aspects of sex. He never tried handcuffs and such, so Freed really was unsure if he would like that. "I'm the type who likes to be teased and denied."

"Well, that's why you're here," the cross-dressing bartender said cheerfully.

Freed just grunted. "Yeah. Here." The South Pole Club, a gay strip club, sitting with a bartender he knew by first name, waiting for a dancer whose real name he did not even know. "When will _he_ be on?"

"Second act, same as always," Bob replied.

"Second," the green-haired man grumbled.

He wanted his favorite stripper to be the opening act, but that coveted spot was only for the club's darling, a true professional named Ice Prince. That man made everyone else look terrible, but he riled up the crowd every time. The man Freed was waiting for was a polar opposite to Ice Prince. They called him Thor, probably due to the lightning-shaped scar that ran down his face and over one eye. It was a frightening scar, plus the man was a massive blond, more like a body builder than a stripper, and when the clothes came off, all of his tattoos made for a stunning visual. "Threatening Thor" was what some in the audience called him, but that was what made Freed fall for him.

Bob brought over another martini without even needing to be asked. He knew this regular customer that well. "You should request him this time. I don't think you've ever spoken a word to _Thor_."

Freed blushed a little. Oh yes, it was tempting, but … "I wouldn't even know what to say to him. I'd choke up, stare like some idiot, act like a totally smitten fool. No," he sighed, picking up the new drink. "Like I said, I'm a masochist. I'd rather watch him from afar. After all, lightning is beautiful when seen in the clouds, but terrifying when it strikes right in front of you."

Bob's jiggling face pouted until his cherry red lipstick looked like a blooming rose. "Oh dear! I really shouldn't say this. We're not supposed to push customers into something they don't want but … oh dear."

Freed took his eyes off the empty stage and looked back at the bartender. "What it is?"

"Well, you see … _Thor_ hasn't been doing well."

The green-haired man jolted. "What? Is he sick?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that at all. I mean work-wise. He's a good man, but his sort of personality appeals to only certain types of people, folks like yourself. Timid and masochistic, that's his pull. The thing is, those sorts also don't call on dancers for a personal session. The owner had some harsh words for Thor just yesterday. He said he'd better get at least one lap dance today or he's out."

Freed felt his heart drop. "They'd fire him? But he's good!"

"Talent and success aren't always hand in hand. Thor is a good man and a great dancer, but if he doesn't make this club money, Mr. Fernandes will show him to the door."

"Jellal Fernandes," Freed seethed.

He had seen the club owner plenty of times, coming out on stage to welcome good crowds, sometimes introducing if the club was having a theme for the day. He had a charming smile and either a tattoo or facial paint that really stuck out in some mystical sort of way, but there was something about the glint in his eyes. He looked at the crowd like looking at slaves that were moving to his will. Maybe that was a good comparison. The audience fell under Jellal's spell, enchanted by sex appeal and thumping music, driven to spend their hard-earned money on alcohol and lap dances.

"Bob," Freed said as softly as he could while still being heard. The bald bartender leaned in a bit closer. "What do I have to do to … um … to _request_ Thor?"

Bob looked like he pitied Freed. He had broken the rules, but he liked Thor. He was a good man. If they lost Thor, they lost Freed and many others who came to sit in their seats, squirming with unfulfilled desire, too shy to tuck away the dollar bills, but still buying up the booze.

Deftly, the obese man pulled out a card and explained how to fill it out, including just how much _attention_ Freed wanted. It was $10 standard, plus Bob explained that there were differences in _contact_. $10 was what he described as an _air dance_. No actual physical contact. $15 got a person one-way contact, but you had to keep your hands to yourself. $30 was two-way contact. Both dancer and receiver could touch one another. To splurge, he could get a private VIP room at $180 for half an hour of erotic dancing. Freed shook his head at that. He had money, but that seemed like too much for his first time. Also, Bob advised, he should tip the dancer. Some of that tip went to the manager to pay for costumes and makeup, but the rest went to the dancer himself. Strippers made most of their money in tips.

Freed filled out the card, blushing fiercely. Then he took his usual seat. His heart was pounding now, knowing he would finally get to talk with Thor. He drank a little faster until his head began to spin. He needed to slow down, breathe easier, and not make himself sick with anxiety. Thor's career was at stake!

The lights finally dimmed. Jellal came out to welcome everyone. A joke, a smarmy grin, and that glint in his eyes as he practically ordered everyone to "enjoy yourselves to the fullest." Then he moved aside, the stage curtain pulled back, music began, and the spotlight shined on the opening act: Ice Prince.

Freed had to admire this dancer. He was pure talent. He danced because stripping was something he loved to do. You could see it in the way he moved his body. This raven-haired rogue rallied the rabble, getting cheers and catcalls. His greatest talent was to tease, tease, tease, and then suddenly go from fully dressed to nothing but a thong in three seconds flat. It wowed every person there … everyone but Freed. What was so amazing about removing clothes that fast? He preferred more stripteasing to the dance.

Freed glanced around at the audience. There were regulars, himself included. He had given nicknames to most of them, just like the dancers on stage had nicknames to hide their true identity. As Ice Prince danced, the loudest hooter was "Pinkie," named because the kid (he looked barely old enough to be let inside) had bright pink hair. Really, could he scream "Hey look, I'm gay" any louder? Then there was "Beastman." Freed overheard his name was really Elfman, but he thought Beastman fit the hulking giant better. There was "Smelly," because the short gentleman with a super-firm chin always reeked of expensive perfume. Then there were some newcomers who had just begun frequenting the club within the past few weeks. Freed nicknamed them "The Dragon Twins" because they both wore the leather jackets of a biker gang with two black and white Asian dragons embroidered on the back. Really … gay men dressed in tight leather! One even had an earring and sometimes came in wearing a feathered boa. Could they get any more homosexually stereotyped?

Then … there was "Scarlet." In a bar full of gay men, _she_ stood out as brightly as her ruby-colored hair. Freed had been stunned the first time he saw her arrive, so much so that he had to ask Bob the bartender if Scarlet was really a woman or one hell of a cross-dresser. The bald Bob giggled and said she was "Mr. Fernandes's woman." Apparently, Scarlet had a kink for observing gay men, which her lover fed by letting her sit in what was otherwise a club exclusively for men. Freed also heard rumors amongst the staff that Scarlet was even further indulged privately by Jellal and his identical twin, Siegrain. Freed really did not want to think about just how this woman got her homosexual kicks through twin brother incest. He supposed Jellal preferred to let the woman get her fill inside the club rather than risking the career of his rather popular politician brother by having wild rumors fly around.

The music ended, the blue light that accented Ice Prince faded as the crowd cheered wildly. The raven-haired dancer slipped backstage, but in no time he was roaming the audience, immediately going to Pinkie's booth for a lap dance. Freed did not know what Pinkie did for a living, but he was loose with his money when it came to Ice Prince.

Watching the darling dancer take his seat and start to gyrate reminded Freed of what he had ordered. He blushed brightly, and once again his heart pounded rapidly.

When the lights changed from blue to yellow, Freed actually gasped. It was coming, as sure as thunder after a lightning strike. The music rumbled to reinforce that concept. Then suddenly, the lights went out, a strobe light flashed with the sound of a thunderclap, and when the yellow light was back on, Thor was on stage.

Freed's throat went dry. It was always a flashy entrance, but newcomers were initially a bit shocked by the large man. The yellow light highlighted golden hair and made his eyes appear orange. Freed often wondered what his real eye color was, but the yellow-orange gleam was predatory and thrilling. Scarlet especially squirmed under that hard gaze. Freed glared at her. If she was so intrigued, why didn't she buy a lap dance. Or maybe she was not allowed to, since this was a gay club.

Unlike nearly every other dancer, Thor rarely used the brass pole. He could _dance_. The pole was only to stabilize him if he slid down, his back resting on the pole, while his knees bent to the sides, showing off the crotch hidden behind leather trousers.

Damn, he looked hot in leather!

Freed stared and thought about how those legs would soon be around him, how that crotch would soon be rubbing against him, teasing him. Already, he was hard, and his breath came panting fast. Then slowly, teasingly, Thor began to unbutton his white shirt. It was not the fast stripping of Ice Prince, but deliberate, drawing out the painful anticipation with a sadistic smile on his face. Under that white shirt, black tattoos, like some sort of tribal design, curled around the bulging muscles.

Freed watched the muscles work as Thor did a routine that was more like graceful fighting than erotic dancing. Sometimes, he caught movements that were definitely Tai Chi, and other times the gyration of his hips was beyond breathtaking. When he did that, with that firm gaze reaching the whole audience, the crowd gave a collective gasp. He was the god of thunder on that stage, hammering at the groins of men.

Even slower were the trousers. He took almost a solid minute just caressing the belt out, pulling it slowly from the buckle, slithering it from the belt loops, until the whole belt was in his hands. He folded it together, and then snapped it. It gave the sound of a leather whip, and Freed moaned.

Fuck, maybe he really was a masochist. Getting whipped by this sexual beast would be pure joy.

Thor never actually took off his trousers, and Freed guessed they were too tight to do so easily. Instead, he undid the button and unzipped the fly. It was just enough to show to the audience that, indeed, he was wearing _nothing_ underneath. That happy trail went down, down, down, to a blond patch. The treasure was just below, hidden by black leather, a hint of a thick root nestled in those blond hairs, just enough to tease at a full monty without providing it.

Far too quickly, the song was over, the lights went out, the strobe light flashed like lightning again, and thunder rolled over the speakers. When the lights were back on, Thor was gone.

Freed was left breathless. His throat was dry, his hands sweaty, and his arousal was so painful, he was tempted to race off to the bathroom for a quick release. He would have, but there was one issue.

"Thor" was coming!

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. Lap Dance

Chapter 2

**Lap Dance**

Freed gulped down his drink, hoping to calm himself. He did not even watch the next dancer. He knew which door the dancers slipped through on their way to lap dances. He stared at the door, waiting, anticipating his thunder god.

When the massive man turned the corner and walked out, Freed leaped. This was really happening! After months of sitting in the dark and watching, he would get a chance to see Thor up close. His chest jolted, like being shocked with electricity with each step of the blond.

Finally, Thor stood over him, glaring down. That scar on his eye stood out, and his gaze narrowed.

"Did you request me?"

Freed felt tiny under that stare. Mutely, he nodded. He worried that maybe this annoyed Thor. Maybe he thought this was just some sick pervert. He feared seeing a sneer of disgust from this man he admired so deeply.

Instead, Thor smirked, a chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he suddenly straddled Freed. The green-haired man stiffened in shock.

"Don't be scared," he said gently, but his eyes were still predatory. "I don't bite … unless you want it."

"Oh God," Freed moaned. His groin ached, but he steeled himself back.

The blond snorted a laugh, and then Thor's hips moved. Freed felt the friction of leather against his pants. The ache in his cock increased, burning, wanting more.

"You can touch," Thor told him. Freed was too enthralled to move. "Did you not want to touch? Or maybe…" Thor suddenly grabbed Freed's wrists, pinning him down, and leaned in close like a beast about to devour his prey. "Maybe you prefer to be restrained." His hips gave a sharp thrust up against Freed's crotch.

"Yes," he hissed, hardly knowing what he was doing.

Thor smirked and shook his head slightly. Freed wondered what that meant. Maybe all of Thor's clients were like this, masochists wanting to be dominated by the thunder god. Freed did not want to be just another person.

"C-can I … touch your chest?"

An eyebrow raised in amusement. "Feeling adventurous? Go ahead."

The blond released one hand, and Freed slowly lifted it. He ran his hand over the buff pectorals, smooth and waxed. Then he traced one of the tattoos.

"You're an interesting one," the dancer muttered.

Freed gazed up hopefully. Interesting? Was Thor interested?

"You have an interesting face," Thor said. "So scared, yet so aroused!" He thrust up again hard and gyrated his hips against Freed.

"Ahhh!" Freed cringed, shuddering. He was liking this too much.

"That's a nice sound," Thor purred. His hips swirled against Freed's body.

"W-Wait!"

"You wanted a full song, right?" He pressed even harder, stroking Freed's arousal mercilessly with his crotch.

"N-no … I … sh-sh-shit!"

Freed tried to pull away, but it was too late. He felt the release in his pants, his mind blanked out, and pleasure mix with utter mortification.

Thor backed off the instant he realized the problem. He looked worried for his customer. He realized other patrons had looked over at the green-haired man's raised voice. He glared at them, silently telling them '_Fuck off!_'Then he knelt beside Freed and put a hand on his arm.

"Are you all right?"

"No!" Freed snapped.

He was humiliated! In front of this man! He yanked himself out of his chair and ran to the restroom. He could feel cum dripping with each step, and tears of shame came to his eyes.

He ran into a stall and yanked his pants down. It was a sticky mess. He held back sobs as he tried to wipe clean everything he could.

This was an issue. He knew that. He just never thought it would be a problem in public.

His beige cotton slacks were darkened where the moistness soaked through. It was way too obvious. Somehow, he would have to make it home with these ruined pants showing to the whole world that he was an idiot who came in his clothes.

He heard the restroom door open and heavy feet march in. "Greenie! You in here?"

"Oh crap," he muttered. It was Thor's voice. As if it wasn't bad enough humiliating himself in front of this god, did he really have to come and punish him more?

"Hey," he said softer, and knuckles rapped on Freed's stall. "I brought you clothes. Figured you'd need a change."

Gratitude gushed into Freed's heart. This god of thunder was actually caring for him! Slowly, he opened the door and peered out. Thor stood much taller than him. In his massive hands were neatly folded jeans and a pair of boxers.

"The jeans are prop clothes. They might be a bit big."

"And the boxers?" he asked, sniffling up tears still.

The large blond looked away, and Freed wondered if it was the lighting or if the man's cheeks really did turn pink. "They're mine. They'll definitely be too big for you, but it's better than commando, right?"

Freed's eyes widened. Thor's own underwear! It was Christmas!

"Don't look so damn happy," Thor snapped. "It was my fault. I'm just helping out a little."

Freed still grinned with excitement and took the offered clothes. He shut his stall again, gladly took off the messy cum-coated clothes, and slowly slid on Thor's boxers. Silk! They felt amazing against his skin. They were far too large, though, and began slipping down almost instantly. He pulled the jeans up. Those were almost a perfect fit, just too long in the legs. He wrapped his belt on to hold it all up, bunched up his messy pants and underwear to best hide the stains, and slowly opened the door. Thor was still there, leaning against the restroom wall, arms folded, staring in a piercing way.

"Hey, Greenie. So, they fit? That's good."

"I'm so sorry," Freed gushed out. "I messed it up, didn't I?"

"Your cum didn't get on me. Don't worry."

"I mean, the lap dance."

"Hey, you obviously enjoyed it," he shrugged. One eyebrow arched in amusement at this frantic man.

"I ruined it, though. It was supposed to be…" He broke off sharply.

Thor smirked wryly. "Supposed to be what? Perfect? Magical? Wasn't it? Your dick sure thought so."

"No, that's … I mean, it's a problem. I didn't think … Oh God, I'm so sorry."

"Ah, I see." He nodded thoughtfully. "I wasn't paying attention, I guess. Your face kind of distracted me."

"My … my face?"

"Never mind," Thor grumbled.

Freed felt a leap of hope. Thor liked his face! "I've been coming to this club just to watch you," he confessed in a rush. "I never thought I'd actually get to be this close. You're … you're a _god_, Thor!"

The blond cringed slightly. "I'm a fuckin' stripper. Gods don't do what I do for money."

"I still … I…" Freed was so flustered, his usually eloquent mind was in a frenzy. "Can I … get more time with you?"

"You could buy another lap dance."

"I mean … outside of here."

Now, Thor's whole face went shocked. "You?"

Freed lowered his head. Really, what the hell was he asking? "I'm really not sure what I can ask for, or what I have to do. I … I'm not _propositioning_ you," he insisted. "Just … maybe some time outside of work? Your choice. Doesn't have to be sex. Just … away from here." He desperately needed a change of scene after humiliating himself like that.

Thor considered it with a low hum. He eyed this young man up and down, debating something. Then he gave a weary sigh. "Why the hell not! I'm still working, but if you can stay until after closing, we can go somewhere. I wanna get my boxers back from you, anyway, and I have to return those jeans by the end of the week."

"Really?" Freed cried out, his eyes alight with stars.

"Sure, I know a little place that's private. We can do whatever you want."

Someone burst through the restroom doors, and Ice Prince entered. "There you are, _Thor_. Jellal is searching for you. That lap dance…"

Thor cleared his throat loudly, and the raven-haired man stopped, suddenly noticing Freed standing there.

"Is there trouble?" Freed asked worriedly. "You can tell Jellal, I'm not angry."

"That's right," the blond growled at the star stripper. "Greenie here wants … _more_."

Ice Prince arched an eyebrow. "Not your usual type."

The hard eyes narrowed. "Do you have a problem with him, _Ice Prince_?"

"Nah, if you're fine with it, then I don't have to worry. Well, I've gotta go dance more. That pink bastard is working me to death again."

Thor looked back to Freed. "Gotta go, Greenie. Meet me at the bar twenty minutes after closing. Did you drive?"

"Yes, I have my car."

"Good. I walked. You can drive me home after we're done with whatever you want tonight. Oh, and you bring your own supplies."

"Supplies?"

"Handcuffs, rope, floggers, butt plugs. Just warning you now, I don't do dress-up."

"What?" Freed shrieked in mortification. "I … I said I don't want sex. Or, I don't need it."

"Whatever you do need, you provide. That's my policy."

"Just a night together," he insisted. "Just … I … I don't need that stuff."

"Whatever ya want, then. See ya." He turned and strode toward the door.

"W-wait!" Freed cried out. When those narrow eyes stared back, he gulped dryly. "Um, I was told … uh, t-tip. Leave a tip." He pulled out his wallet. The dance had been only thirty dollars, but he knew Thor was in a financial bind. He pulled out three ten dollar bills. "See if this makes your boss happier."

"Fuck him," Thor growled. "The bastard takes a percentage of my tips. You give me that much, he'll take most of it."

"Then only give him ten and keep the rest for yourself," Freed said with a sly smile.

Thor chuckled at the deviousness in this man's smirk. Ice Prince was right: this green-haired man was not his usual type, but he was damn interesting. Thor stepped back into the bathroom with a sadistic smile.

"There's a way you leave a stripper a tip, ya know."

Freed's mouth dropped. He had seen it many times in the club. Whenever Pinkie had Ice Prince dance for him, he tucked a couple dollars into his thong. He glanced down at the leather pants, knowing full well that there was nothing on underneath. If he reached in there, he chanced touching _that_. Still, shaking with nervous excitement, his hand reached forward.

"Nu-uh," Thor smirked. "On your knees."

Instantly, Freed dropped to his knees, not realizing just how disgusting the restroom floor might be.

"Use your mouth," Thor ordered.

Freed shuddered at the dominance of this man. He could not disobey this god of thunder. Meekly, he put the three bills into his mouth and leaned in closer. His nose pressed against the lower belly. He could smell the sweat and musk of this man, a fragrance of soap, and the tang of leather from his pants.

His eyes turned up, but that hard gaze pierced straight through him. He tried not to gasp too hard, lest the bills get sucked back into his throat. Instead, he pressed closer. His face rubbed against hard abs and leather. His chin could feel the soft lump in those pants as he tried to figure out how to angle his head to push the dollar bills into the narrow gap between flesh and fabric.

"Use your tongue, Greenie."

Freed groaned softly at the order. Yep, he was definitely submissive, probably a masochist, too. His tongue slid out, but the money was in his mouth. He had to press the bills down with his tongue, tucking them away into the pants with just his mouth.

He got two in, but one fell to the floor. Freed looked at the ten dollar bill with humiliation. He began to lean over, opened his mouth, and was going to pick the bill up that way.

A hand suddenly grabbed his cheeks roughly and yanked his head up, tongue still hanging out. He sat there on his knees, panting like a dog, tongue lolling, gazing up at a man he wanted as his master.

"Nu-uh. That one's dirty. It goes to Jellal. Hand it to me."

Freed reached down, picked the bill up, and presented it like an offering to his thunder god.

"Not bad," Thor said softly, taking the money.

Curiosity and fascination shone in his eyes that turned orange in the club's red lighting. Then the gleam in Thor's eyes suddenly shattered. He pulled away with a jolt, as if lightning had struck _him_ this time. For a moment, Thor looked confused, and Freed wondered why.

"You're used to this, aren't you?" the dancer said, almost in accusation. "Probably go to some professional Dom once a week for a scene, right?"

Breathlessly, Freed confessed, "It's my first time."

Again, the blond's eyebrows flinched as some thought disturbed him. Instead, he yanked the money out of his pants and turned away sharply. "You tip too high, idiot. Who the hell gives a hundred percent gratuity?"

"A man truly grateful," Freed answered with pure honesty.

Thor stood silently, but suddenly he stormed out without another word.

Freed stayed there on his knees for another minute, catching his breath and remembering the smell of sweat and leather. He would get to spend the night with the thunder god! It made his heart race. Plus it seemed like him asking just might get the dancer out of some trouble with Jellal. So what he asked was not annoying or overstepping his boundaries. It actually turned out to be helpful.

Freed watched the rest of the show in a daze. During a break, he took his ruined clothes out to his car so he did not have to hold them and remember his embarrassing scene. Once more, Thor came out onto the stage to dance. This time, those predatory eyes looked directly at Freed. It made the green-haired man gulp, and already he felt life returning to his cock. He definitely did not touch himself, though. No need to ruin Thor's boxers.

Although, coming in Thor's silk boxers…

Freed groaned a little at just the thought of it, and as if he could sense his partner's dirty thoughts, Thor lowered the zipper further and further. Absolutely nothing was on under those leather pants. The root of something huge teased the whole audience. Freed smiled privately. He was _wearing_ Thor's missing underwear!

After Thor's dance, Freed did not want to watch anyone else. No one could compare, in his mind. He sat at the bar with Bob, nursing a drink to keep down his anxiety, yet not wanting to get drunk. Bob kept smiling at him, but the bar was busy. He did not speak much to the nervous man.

Finally, the show was over. Patrons left, heading home for a night of jerking off to memories of their favorite dancers. Pinkie shouted out to Bob. He was a regular, and it seemed he knew the cross-dressing bartender as well.

Finally, with the club almost empty, Bob went over to Freed. "So, the dance went well?"

"Very well," he smiled. "Maybe too well."

"Could it be that you're waiting for a certain someone?" he asked, simpering smugly. "I heard that you asked Thor for some … _private lessons_."

Freed blushed fiercely. "It's not like I wanna _hire_ him. I would never treat Thor like some prostitute."

Bob smiled sympathetically. "Dear, these guys get men off for a living. Don't feel ashamed."

"I … I don't want that just for money."

"Oh?" he chuckled. "Are you hoping for love?"

"It's possible, right?" Freed shouted. "Maybe … maybe we can become friends, and maybe one day he could love me."

"Oh dear," Bob sighed in anguish. "Don't get your hopes up too much, sweetie. This is _Thor_ we're talking about. He doesn't really have friends, as far as I know."

That saddened Freed. How could such an amazing and caring man not have friends? The blond had let Freed borrow his own underwear just because he felt guilty for humiliating him.

"Well, in any case." Bob slid his hand over the bar and right over to Freed. When he lifted it, the green-haired man saw a condom square hidden under those pudgy fingers.

"Bob!" he cried out.

"Thor doesn't bring those to work. I know, I've scolded him many times about it, but he keeps insisting that if his clients want something, they have to bring their own supplies. So … just to be safe."

Humiliated and afraid someone might see, Freed snatched the condom away and hid it deep within his pocket.

"I … I'm not doing it unless he really wants it also," Freed insisted.

"Of course, deary. Oh, and here comes the lucky man."

Freed jolted and looked around. Jellal was walking out with his redheaded lady hanging on his arm, a king and his queen. Behind them, looming over like a royal bodyguard, was the scar-faced blond.

"Good work, Bob," Jellal called out. "Lock up the place."

"Of course, sir," Bob nodded. "Evening, Miss Erza."

"Thank you for your hard work, Master Bob," the redhead said with a warm, gentle voice that surprised Freed.

"She actually sounds nice," Freed muttered after the two left out the door.

"They run a tight ship, but Miss Erza is a caring woman, and Jellal, for how strict he must be with issues of business, he's only that way because he cares for the South Pole Club as a whole."

Freed would have normally asked more about the two, except a shadow now loomed over him, and his heart pounded like a thunderstorm. Thor was wearing those same leather trousers, but this time he had on a skin-tight black shirt and a long furry coat tossed over his shoulders, arms hanging loose. He nodded silently to Bob, and then he stared down at Freed.

"Ready?"

Freed bolted to his feet. "Y-yeah. Uh, follow me. See ya, Bob."

Bob blew him a kiss. "Have fun, lover boy!"

**End of Chapter 2**


	3. A Cheap Motel

Chapter 3

**A Cheap Motel**

Freed walked out of the club, and he heard heavy boots striding just behind him. No one had ever called Freed short—he was taller than many of his friends, although not towering—however, standing next to this blond god, he felt tiny. He rushed to his car and hurriedly opened the passenger door for the burly strip dancer.

Sharp eyes glared down at him, sending a spiking thrill through Freed's nerves. "I can open a door by myself, ya know."

Freed's mouth opened, but the words caught like a scared mouse in a trap. "Th-the handle sometimes sticks," he said in an excuse, cringing that he was treating Thor with too much attention. A man like this would probably hate basic chivalry. He rushed around to the driver's side and slid in. He waited until Thor buckled his seat belt. Then he started up the engine and pulled out of the strip club's parking lot.

"Turn right," the blond said laconically. "Three lights down, make a left."

"Are we going somewhere?" Freed asked, making the turn onto the street.

"A little place I use. It's the cheapest motel in the city, hourly rates, more or less clean, rents ten bucks an hour to us strippers. That way our clients don't have to use up a crapload of money."

"I'm not a _client_," Freed insisted.

"Well, it's true that you didn't offer to pay me. I figured we'd work that out when we got there."

Freed's brows tightened. "I don't want to _hire_ you."

"Then ya ain't getting much. I don't do shit for free."

Freed sighed in irritation and decided not to complain. He figured if he could just talk to this man, they could find some common interest, something that could make them friends. He wondered just how often Thor got _clients_, but he figured it was rude to ask. He probably did not want to know, anyway.

"What's after the left?" Freed asked as he came up to the light. Thor had his hand to his mouth. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I tend to get motion sickness in cars. I'll be fine once we get to the motel. Keep straight for a mile. Look on your right for the sign with a neon igloo. That's the one." He went quiet again with his hand fisted up and pressed to his mouth.

Freed smiled sympathetically. So, the almighty Thunder God got carsick, huh? He felt like he was learning new things about this man already.

Not long later, he saw a flickering motel sign. Pole Palace, and sure enough, there was an igloo in white neons with a suspiciously phallic North Pole. Freed parked the car, and the blond practically catapulted himself out of the vehicle. They went in together, entering a little foyer where Thor told the worker they wanted the hourly rate. Freed disliked that the worker seemed to know Thor by sight. Just how often had he come here?

"As usual, the corner room," the worker said, handing the blond a key. "One hour charged to your card now, sir," he said to Freed. "Additional hours are charged at the time you return the key. It's a twenty-four hour time limit. Good evening, sirs."

They walked out and passed by other motel rooms. Some had sensual moans coming out through the walls and windows.

"Prince … _nnngh_, Prince."

"You're sensitive like usual, you pink bastard. Now, roar for me."

"No, not there. Your hands are too cold. Oh damn, so cold! So good! Oh God, that's … _ahhhhh!_"

"That's the sexy sound I like to hear from you."

Freed toned out the groans coming out of almost every room. It was like walking past an orgy. (He had that experience once in college, a party he would rather forget ever happened.) He probably could end up just like all of them: a moaning voice in the night, paying for a release of sexual desires. Freed did not want that, though. The thought of hiring Thor, like some cheap prostitute, was repulsive to him. Thor was a _god_, not a hooker. He wanted to worship this man, bow to him, obey him, but he did not want to pay. He wanted Thor to _want_ his adulations.

"He said this was your _usual_," Freed mumbled questioningly as they walked along an ill-lit corridor to find the motel room.

"My clients tend to upset other people here," Thor answered.

"Noisy?"

"Very." He looked disgusted, but he said nothing more. "If you need to scream, it's fine. The corner room has the best insulation."

"Scream?" Freed frowned.

"You're a masochist, right?"

"I … well, I think I am."

Those narrow eyes glanced down at him, and for the first time Freed saw their natural color. They were a lovely shade of blue.

"So, you're still experimenting with the whole scene, eh?"

"Huh?" Freed had no clue what he meant.

"We can experiment. Tonight, we'll see what you like, how far I should take it, where your limits are."

"Take … it? How far?"

They got to the door, and Freed let them both in. He decidedly did not hold the door open this time, but marched straight in. The room was definitely the worst he had seen. The bed was neatly made, but the walls were cracked and peeling, stains marked the carpet, and the place reeked of cleansers and an overload of air fresheners that vainly tried to cover the smell. He could see why the motel rented hourly. Likely, no one would want to stay a full night in one of these rooms, let alone twenty-four hours.

Thor tossed his coat off and marched over to the bed, not even taking his shoes off. "So, let's work it out now."

"Wait, wait," Freed cried out. "I'm not _hiring_ you for sex."

"Of course you're not. You said you didn't want sex. That's the only reason I agreed. No sex. Straight up BDSM."

"No!" Freed blushed as he remembered what Thor had said about bringing his own supplies. "I don't know if I want that sort of thing."

Thor crossed his arms. "You've been really weird all night. So what do you want from me?"

Freed blushed and looked away. "Not much, I guess."

"Standard spanking?"

"No! Look, I … I don't know if…" He growled in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Greenie," the burly dancer said softly, hoping to calm him down. "I forgot, you're new to this. I've never had someone new. Here's how it works. You decide what you want me to do. I might say no. I don't do a lot of kinky shit. For the things I agree to do, we negotiate a price. I do what you want, for as long as you want. My prices are set for half-hour intervals. No half price if you only last fifteen minutes, got it? You want another half hour, all activities cost you again. So if you want spanked, but then want to be my dog, and thirty-five minutes later you want more spanking, I charge you again."

Freed shivered at the idea that Thor had worked out such a precise system of payment for sexual favors. "Do I have to pay you just to talk?"

"Talk? Like dirty talk?"

"Like … _talking_. Two people, mouths moving, intelligent conversation."

"Talk is free. Dirty talk is base-rate five bucks."

"What about kissing? Do I have to pay just to have you kiss me? What if I kiss you and you don't kiss back?"

The scarred eyebrow raised high. "What the hell? Kissing? I thought you said you don't want sex."

"I'm not going to pay you for sex, but do I have to pay just to kiss you? If I do, I won't kiss you. I don't want to have to pay you to do _anything_."

"Not pay … oh shit, I have no clue what you even want." The blond rose to his feet and paced away in frustration. He stopped by the restroom and suddenly spun around. "Is this a game already? Is that the deal? If you're playing _I-don't-want-it_ games, that falls under rape fantasy and that's fifty bucks."

"It's not a game. I just don't want to force you to do anything."

"Look, Greenie…"

"Freed."

The dancer looked over in confusion.

"My name, it's Freed. Freed Justine."

One hand ran through his spiky blond hair. "That name is way too weird to be a cover-up. You know, normal policy is that a dancer and client never learns one another's names."

Freed looked sad and disappointed. "Your name isn't Thor?"

The blue eyes narrowed. "Do I look like a fucking Thor?"

"Yes," Freed answered instantly.

"Well, it's not my name. I don't give out my name. That's some stage name my jackass boss came up with, because of this." He pointed to the lightning-shaped scar on his eye. "Look, someone probably told you about my job situation. That's why you're doing this, right?" He watched as Freed blanched a little. "I'll be honest: it's the only reason I went with you tonight. A kid like you, I would normally turn down."

Freed felt like a rapier had just stabbed into his heart. He remembered what Ice Prince had said about not being Thor's usual type. "Why? Do you not like me?"

"I don't even know you," he snapped. "Besides, I'm not the sort of man you think I am."

"I don't think one way or another," Freed admitted. "I want to get to know you, so I can make my own opinions. Even if I'm not your type, I thought…" He stopped and looked away with a sinking feeling of disappointment. "Well, maybe this isn't usual, but we're about the same age. We could hang out after work, maybe even be friends."

Thor stared at him hard for almost a solid minute of tense silence. "Friends?" he said softly, in total disbelief. Then he yelled angrily, "Fuckin' friends?" He let out a bitter, scoffing laugh. "Dammit, you really are something, kid."

"Please, call me…"

"You're a kid," he roared. "You're a goddamn fucking kid. I bet you're younger than me, and you ain't bad-looking, so why the hell are you hanging out in a gay strip club? It's supposed to be just old men and perverts, and you wanna be fuckin' friends!"

Freed backed up a step. "Is that your type? Old men?"

The stripper froze for a moment, and Freed saw a swallow get stuck in his throat. Then he turned away angrily and took a few steps in the opposite direction. "It's what I normally take. Look, I … I'm not anything at all what you think. Hell, I'm not even gay."

Freed's eyes widened. "Not … but … then why…?"

"I'm a sadist who uses and abuses old men, all right?" he snapped, still looking in the opposite direction.

"Uses? I don't get it."

"My clientèle is extremely limited, but the men who like this sort of thing will pay good money for it. Jellal only cares about numbers, not how much I can make from those few men, since most of that is private, on-the-side money. Jellal only gets his money when one buys a lap dance or V.I.P. room, and those are always just to arrange a meeting after work for … private sessions."

Freed felt uncomfortable hearing all these details about the inner workings of a stripper. "So, why only old men if you're not gay?" he asked in confusion.

"I told you, I'm a sadist, and I don't hit women."

"So you hit old men?"

He chuckled darkly. "I beat the motherfucking shit out of them. They pay a lot for it, too."

"But if you're not gay…"

"I beat them. I don't fuck them. I might have done a handjob or two, but I've never once fucked a client. There aren't many men in this town who want that sort of thing, and then they only want it once in a while, a breather, how rich old men deal with stress, so it's not exactly a full-time job. This dancing gig is just to cover bills between jobs and make it easier for me to find new clients. I know how to dance, and I know how to tease without giving a person what they want. That's what I do: tease the old bastards and beat them until they come on their own. They get their kicks; I get to work out aggression."

"Aggression?" Freed pouted, sensing a deeper darkness in this troubled man.

"Do you really wanna know?"

"I want to be your friend, Thor."

"Dammit, don't call me Thor. I hate that name."

"What should I call you, then?"

The blond glanced back over his shoulder and eyed the thin, green-haired man up and down, assessing the level of danger in him. He sensed nothing bad. "I'll tell you why I do it. If you run away, you can keep thinking of me as Thor. If somehow you don't run for the hills, I'll tell you my real name, and we can play this your way."

Freed gave a small nod and braced himself for whatever turbulent past this man had.

"Come here," he waved, and Freed eagerly got closer. Thor pulled off his tight, black shirt, exposing the tattoos. "Look closer, but don't you dare touch me."

Freed kept his hands behind his back to show he would not touch. He inspected the swirling tattoos. They were truly a work of art, such smooth lines that enhanced the shape of his muscles. However, he noticed something odd.

"They're on top of … scars?"

The blond nodded slowly. "I got the tattoos to hide the scars. Shit load of scars, right? How do you think I got them?"

Freed honestly had no clue. The lines were too straight to have been caused by knife fights. "Surgery?"

"Close. My bastard father was a scientist, a real cracked one. He would … do things to me," he said softly.

Freed looked up in horror from the black tattoos to the darkness in the man's deep-blue eyes.

"I was a really scrawny and sickly kid, so he would inject me with things to make me a son worthy of his legacy. Steroids, protein concoctions, Devil knows what shit he used on me. I was the human test subject in his mostly-illegal research. Hell, maybe he was trying to create a super-human like some comic book. One day, he decided mere shots were not enough. I needed something more, something permanent. I still don't know precisely what he did to me. I just know it was … painful." His eyes tensed up with childhood memories. "It's not a time of my life I like to remember."

He pulled away and yanked his shirt back on, covering the tattoos and the scars.

"Luckily, my grandfather realized what he was doing, took me in, and sent my father away. He's an internationally wanted criminal now, part of a whole criminal organization called Raven Tail, rather famous on the INTERPOL lists. I haven't seen the bastard since that time, but I know that if I do, I'll kill him … slowly. I'll torture him over many months, like he did to me, and when I've had my fill of hearing him scream, I'll beat the motherfucker to death with my own fists. That's why I take old men. I pretend they're him, I humiliate them, I whip them, I beat them until they either come or they use a safeword on me, and then I leave. I get out aggression, and I experiment to see what sorts of things I can do, how much pain I can inflict, before they use a safeword."

"Safeword?"

"A word that tells me I've gone beyond what they can handle, something stronger than just yelling _Stop_. So yeah, that's what I do. Consensual torture. I beat up old men to train myself so I can one day torture and kill my father. If the old men get their kicks in the process, good for them. I don't give a rat's ass what they want or what they think. They're not allowed to even touch me. I don't kiss them, I don't hug them if they cry, I beat their cocks rather than jerk them, and I sure as hell don't fuck them."

Freed nodded thoughtfully, trying to digest this horrific tale. Inside, he was shivering. He truly could not imagine what this man's childhood must have been like with a father who would cut him and do _experiments _on him.

"Hey," Freed said quietly, "if you ever find that father of yours, let me know. I'd like to get in a few punches as well."

The blond stared at him in shock. "You … you're not … sickened by me?"

"I'm sickened by him, not by you."

"I'm the one beating up old men."

Freed just shrugged. "They're masochists. They like it, and it's how you deal with your emotions."

"I thought you'd vomit and run away."

"I don't run out on friends."

"We're not friends!" the blond snapped.

"Not yet," Freed shrugged lightly, "but I care about you."

"You care about _Thor_, some asshole slut who prances around on a stage."

"I care for whatever man is standing in front of me right now," Freed objected, looking firmly into those oceanic eyes.

The blond's brow tightened at that, crinkling his forehead. For a moment, the two men looked at one another, and a clock ticked away the seconds. Finally… "Laxus. My name is Laxus."

Freed held his hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you, Laxus. My name is Freed."

He snorted a wry laugh, yet he took the hand in a crushing grip. To his surprise, the man held back just as firmly. Laxus raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"You're stronger than you look."

"Thirteen years of fencing lessons builds up your hands and arm muscles."

"You continue to impress me, Freed. How about we go out for drinks? We can talk about something more normal."

"Normal is boring," Freed smirked. "But I could use a drink. You laid quite a crapload of stuff on me just now."

"You didn't run away."

"I told you, I don't run on friends. I stay by their side and fight with them. That's my way."

"I like your way," Laxus said in amusement. "Come on, you owe me a drink."

Freed went outside, past the moans and huffing grunts. He walked back to the front of the motel and returned the key.

"That was fast," the concierge frowned.

"We had a misunderstanding," Freed smiled, happy to slowly be straightening things out with this thunder god.

**End of Chapter 3**


	4. Whiskey and Gin

Chapter 4

**Whiskey and Gin**

Hesitantly, Laxus followed behind Freed. He had never just _hung out_ with a guy before, and it was a weird concept. He walked behind the green-haired man to the car and sat in with stiff movements.

"Relax. I don't bite," Freed laughed, remembering what Laxus had said to him during the lap dance. "You were way more confident earlier."

"Earlier, I was in my own environment. I feel like I'm trapped in your world now."

"My world?"

"A world of going out for drinks with friends, relaxing on a couch, chatting about the weather, maybe going to a game and cheering on your favorite team. The normal world."

"I can't promise I'd cheer at a game. I don't much like sports besides fencing."

"Swords, right? You compete?"

"I've been on TV."

"No kidding!"

"Bob has even played some of my matches on the screens in the barroom."

"Bob the drag queen bartender? You know him?"

"Just from the club." Freed backed his car out of the driveway and onto the street. "Don't you ever hang out with people from work?"

"I've gone drinking with Gray once or twice, but only because he kept bugging me."

"Gray?"

"Oh shit," Laxus realized in horror. "Forget that name."

Freed thought about it. "Ice Prince?"

"I said forget it!" he snapped. "We're not supposed to let clients know our real names."

"I'm not a client, and I'm not interested in him. I probably won't return to the South Pole Club again, anyway."

Laxus looked worried. "You're not coming back?"

"I was only coming to watch you. Now I know you're not gay. Sort of squashes my fantasies."

"Oh," Laxus mumbled, and he looked away.

Laxus was silent through the rest of the ride, but Freed did not really feel up for conversation, either. His mind still whirled around what he had been told. Besides, if they did all of their talking in the car, they would have nothing left to say while drinking.

He also realized that Laxus did not look well.

"Carsick again?"

"Shut up," the hulking man growled. "Dammit, I forgot my headphones. Don't you have music in this car? I feel less sick when I listen to music."

Freed turned on the radio. "Find what you like."

It was set to a classical station, something Freed preferred while sitting in traffic because it kept him calm. However, he figured a man like Laxus would like something more upbeat. To his surprise, Laxus let out a sigh of relief and kept the radio right where it was.

"You can change the station," Freed offered again.

"Nah, this is good. Do you like classical?"

"Enough to know this is Mozart's _Flute Concerto Number 1_."

"Good ear. My mother used to tell me that flute music settles the stomach."

Freed was about to ask about his mother, but he figured that if Laxus had an issue with his father, more than likely he should not ask about what happened to his mother. Instead, he sat back and listened to the soaring, gentle tones of the flute filling the car and easing the stomach of his passenger.

They went to a pub Freed knew. Maybe it was a bit classy, but he liked a place that was clean and the drinks were strong. Besides, he was not the sort for sports bars and dance clubs.

"I like this place," Laxus said as he got out of the car.

Freed's eyes lit up. "You've been here?"

"A couple times. Don't look so damn pleased with yourself, Greenie. I've been to probably every pub in the city at least once."

They walked in together. This late at night, there were not many patrons, and most of those were already drunk. They found a seat away from the others, and a waiter came up.

"Last call is in twenty minutes, just warning you."

Freed hardly realized it was that late already.

"Then I'll have a triple Blue Label, neat, with a water back," Laxus said. He looked to Freed, nodding for him to order.

Scotch whiskey! That was a heavy drinker's order, but completely the sort of drink Freed figured a man like Laxus would order. Freed felt intimidated and stuttered.

"Order what you normally do," Laxus said in a commanding whisper.

He gulped and nodded. "Sapphire martini, up, two olives to the side in a shot glass."

The waiter nodded and went off.

"Refined," Laxus smiled wryly. "I figured you were a martini man. You seem to be the type. You also know what you like. What a man orders says a lot about him. You learn that working the sort of job I do."

"Can you really tell what every man in that room is like just by what he's drinking?" Freed asked with interest.

"Not completely, but I can tell a lot. That pink-haired brat likes flaming drinks. He's still a kid, probably just barely old enough to drink, but he wants to show off. He likes attention, and he likes to horde. Just look at how he buys up Ice Prince's time. Those dragon twins…"

Freed chuckled that Laxus had given them the same nickname he did.

"… order tequila shots to start, but they stick to cheap-ass beer for the rest of the night. They want to get drunk quick, but not get sick. They think they need to keep drinking, but they're pressed for money. The beer also makes them appear manly. They were probably raised in homophobic homes, broke free, met each other, started whatever biker gang they're in to keep their bad-boy reputation while banging one another. They're both too self-conscious with the concept of bottoming, so they both want to seem like they top. That's why their drinks are always identical."

"They're a couple?" Freed asked. He had suspicions.

"I don't need to see what they drink to tell you that. I've heard them in the restroom slamming each other against the walls."

Freed grimaced. "Do you get that a lot?"

"Not really. Not many couples come there. Now Miss Erza, on the other hand, drinks straight up bourbon when alone, but she will only drink strawberry daiquiris if Jellal is around. She's hard on the outside, but sweet on the inside. She really wants to play up that sweet side to her lover. Then there's you. You drink gin martinis or chilled chartreuse. I've never seen you guzzling beer or hitting the hard spirits. You have taste, you know what you like, and you try too hard."

"Try too hard?" Freed repeated, stunned by that assumption.

"You know you're better than the assholes in that club. You're probably well-educated, maybe you even came from a wealthy family. If not, then at least you're into some wealth now. In either case, you've come to define your social status through your drinks. Martinis are the drink of the upper class, and you've taken that a step further by ordering a damn good gin and specifying your taste: olives to the side. Also, you don't drink chartreuse because you particularly like it. You drink it because you think it's refined. You make a face whenever you sip it, but you refuse to mix it. You're afraid to slip into the same level as the pervs in that club, so you try too hard to separate yourself from them by ordering something those Budweiser bums have probably never heard of before."

Freed dropped his head, thinking about this observation. It was true, he ordered chartreuse, not because he liked the potent flavor of the liqueur, but because people often raised their eyebrows and asked about it. He could then brag about the 130 herbs and how only two monks in France know the secret technique for making the drink. It made him sound well-versed in drinking, which somehow equated to refinement. It kept him a step above the sleaze-balls who frequented the gay strip club purely to get off.

Their drinks came just then. Laxus got his scotch whiskey with the side of water. He remained in a casual yet somehow domineering stance, leaned back in the pub's booth, staring with those stormy blue eyes.

"And your choice in drink?" asked Freed.

Laxus raised his glass in salute. "I like it strong, I like it hard, no frills, nothing sweet." He took a sip of the whiskey and let it flow over his tongue.

Freed gulped as lewd thoughts filled his head, but he calmly pointed out, "And yet you ordered the water. I know it cuts the scotch, opening up the flavor of the drink."

Laxus chuckled at his keen observation. "When I find something I like, I want to indulge."

_Something he likes…_

But Laxus was not gay. He would not _like_ Freed, not that way. He would not want to _indulge_ in him.

Laxus lifted the glass of water. "Now, most drinkers blend a few drops of water into the scotch. Cuts the alcohol burn, lets the flavor break through. I like the burn. I like how it tingles all the way down. However, it'll numb your taste buds if you're not careful, or if you drink a lot, and I like to drink a lot of scotch. So the water…" He took just a small sip. "…it cools off the tongue, washes it all down, before the alcohol can numb it. I get the full effect of the scotch without weakening it, and I can enjoy it for as long as I want."

Freed immediately sipped his martini to hide his blushing. He felt his heart flutter at those deep words, but he forced his eyes down.

"So, Mister Martini Drinker. Tell me how you really are," Laxus ordered, leaning back and swirling the scotch in his hand.

Freed set the martini glass down and stared at it as he spoke. "I suppose my family was well off," he said guardedly. "I'm currently a university student, but it's assumed I'll take over my father's business. Needless to say, he wasn't all that happy to find out I was gay."

"Only child?"

"A brother and a sister. Bickslow's a perverted idiot, but my father is trying to set him up with the marriage alliance he couldn't get out of me. My sister Evergreen is the real brains in the family. I'm the pretty face my parents like to show off at parties."

"Sounds monotonous."

"Achingly so," Freed groaned. "That might be why I got into fencing. I'm in charge, no one controls my destiny, I fight my own battles, and it lets me gain a victory that has nothing to do with family prestige or money. If I want to be the pretty little princeling prancing around, I can pretend to be that, but if I want to be a demon with a sword, I can be."

Laxus chuckled into his drink. "Now I want to see you fight. I've never seen a fencing match before. Sounds interesting."

"I'll take you to my next match."

Laxus froze with the cup to his lips, and slowly he pulled it back down. "You're assuming a lot, Greenie."

"My only assumption is that you'll eventually call me Freed, not Greenie, and we'll become friends by the end of the night."

"Like I said: a lot!" He took a large gulp, set his tumbler down, and immediately picked up the water to chase it.

"So, you really aren't homosexual?" Freed asked, sounding just a little disappointed.

Laxus gave a shrug. "Not one way or another, I guess. I've spent my whole life pretty much avoiding any sort of relationship beyond work acquaintances."

"Does that make you a virgin?" Freed smirked.

Laxus' eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. "Hey now!"

"Good," Freed smiled, feeling looser with some more alcohol in him. "I am too, so I don't have to feel totally out of my league while around you."

Laxus coughed out his scotch, spraying the table with alcohol. "You? A virgin? Shit, a guy as good-looking as you should have women all over him."

"I'm rather uncomfortable around women. They're my biggest weakness. I prefer the company of men."

"Does that have something to do with your parents?"

"They were trying to arrange a marriage for me before I even understood the difference between boys and girls. As soon as I turned fifteen, I was paraded around to every eligible débutante in five hundred miles. Each girl was primly schooled to believe that a flighty, flirty attitude was the best way to impress a gentleman. I took up every fencing tournament I could enter just to get out of that hell."

"And that turned you gay?"

Freed chuckled and shook his head. "You don't _turn_ gay. You either are or you aren't. I have never found women to be sexually appealing. More like they're scary, intimidating creatures that I fear will put their hands all over me, and I feel disgusted by the mere thought of it."

"So you don't like women at all?"

"I don't _mind_ women. I have plenty of female friends. I just don't find them sexually appealing."

Laxus cocked his head to the side with an arrogant smile. "So what _do_ you find appealing?"

Freed's brain screamed "_YOU!_" However, he held that thought back. Laxus was not homosexual, after all. "Someone taller than me. I typically go for light-colored hair, but not always. Strong men, independent … muscular," he admitted, hardly helping to take a look at how Laxus' tight shirt showed off those hulking muscles. "I want a man who can support me, who can … d-dominate me." He bit his lip and turned his head aside as he felt himself blush.

"Dated many men?"

Freed scoffed while rolling his eyes. "I'm not even sure if you'd consider it dating. How about you? You must have women all over you, when you're not entertaining men."

"I tried the whole dating thing in high school. Wasn't all that impressed. Just a pain in the ass. Too much drama, ladies just wanting me to pop their cherries."

"And you didn't?"

"Like I said, it was a pain in the ass. I wasn't interested in that stuff. Didn't want sex, sure as hell didn't need some girl screaming in my ear when my hand serves me just as easily, and without all the PMS bullshit. None of the girls I dated got me hard, anyway, no matter how they tried. People in general don't get me aroused, girls or guys."

"What does?"

"Hell if I know!" Laxus grumbled, but Freed thought he saw a bit of a blush to his cheeks. He wondered what could interest a man like this if lap dances and pretty ladies did nothing for him. However, Laxus steered the conversation away from his own love life. "So, did your parents ever managed to get you to try dating a few girls?"

"Oh hell no!" Freed sneered. "At least Bickslow and Evergreen backed me up when it came to that."

Laxus eyed this long-haired man up and down. "Pretty rich boy, always in control, always expected to be the perfect son to a perfect family. No wonder you want to escape into some fetish-filled fantasy where you have no control, where someone strips you of your pride, where you can face your fear of humiliation without anyone else seeing you that way."

Freed felt his heart sink a little. "Do you see that a lot? Is it a common theme amongst your … _clients_?"

Laxus gave a shrug and knocked back the last of his drink. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. Every single one of my clients is well off financially. They have to be to afford me. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, CEOs, maybe a politician or two: people who are always in control, who must maintain their image, who can't let their fake smile, their fake grimace, their fake _life_, slip up for even one minute. Those are the sorts who desperately need to escape. They need to be humiliated in a setting where they won't lose their job just because they're a whining, mewling, pissing-themselves mess. They need balance. They need escape. They need to hurt. They need to let go of the knuckle-gripping clutch on their reputation and feel normal for one night."

"_Normal_ being…?"

Laxus smiled vilely. "Crying like the baby they are inside, punished for being the bad boys they have to be in the _real world_, broken and beaten in a world where everyone is afraid to even _touch_ them wrong."

"And you give them that?" Freed asked hesitantly.

"Like I said before: I beat them; I don't fuck them."

Freed stared down into his martini. "I … don't think that's what I want."

"I can tell. I knew from the very start. You're a raging submissive, maybe you'd like a little light bondage and humiliation, but you're not into the hardcore _pain_ I usually dole out."

"No, I … I don't think I'd like that."

"Because you still feel the struggle of independence. Most of those men—not all, but most—have given up, succumbed to their lot in life, their perfectly planned destiny. They studied hard, married well, worked diligently, and never allowed themselves to do something just for themselves. That's why they need something extreme now that they're old and miserable. Nearly all of my clients absolutely hate their wives. I'd almost pity them, except they let themselves be placed into that role, and they're probably doing the same damn thing to their kids. In forty years, it'll be their sons seeking out a sadist to beat the misery out of them. You, on the other hand," Laxus went on, "I can tell you're still fighting that. That puts you a cut above the pompous assholes I beat up."

"Is that why you're here with me?"

"Maybe," he shrugged laconically. "You show me that some pretty rich boy can be more than a mindless robot following the orders of his parents and society, marrying whoever they tell you to because that's your social duty, the traditions of your caste, _noblesse oblige_, generations of prestige riding on what they decide you have to become. You're the sort of man who says 'Fuck it' to all that bullshit. I like that. Besides, you're good company." He looked down at the empty glass. "And I'm out of alcohol."

Freed finished up his martini. "I can take you home. It's late."

"You're paying for this," Laxus pointed out. He rose and headed to the restroom.

Freed watched Laxus' ass as he walked away. "As you wish," he whispered, wanting to be ordered around just a little more.

Freed paid the tab, and Laxus came out. Together, they went back to Freed's car.

"I'll tell you where to take me, but you're not dropping me off at home," Laxus said sternly.

"I understand," Freed nodded. "I'm sure you think of me as nothing more than some stranger, maybe even a stalker."

"Nah, I've seen stalkers. Gray's got one that follows him everywhere."

"You mean _Ice Prince_," Freed corrected with a smirk.

"Ah shit," Laxus growled, realizing he messed up again. "Hell, you know his name now, no big deal. Anyway, I'd rather think of you as a fanboy," he chuckled as the car started up. "But I'm glad you understand one thing. I don't know you; you don't know me. Most new clients don't comprehend that. They've built up such an imagination about _Thor_, that person on the stage, they think they know everything about me. They know jack shit! My clients never even learn my real name. You know just my first name. That's all I'm willing to give out for now. We're not acquainted, not yet. You know a dancer; I know someone who frequents a club where I work, someone I haven't talked to before today."

"Not _friends_ yet, huh?"

Laxus slid a glance over. "Maybe getting there," he said softly. "Make a left, then a right on Strawberry Street. Past the bridge, you'll see a gas station. You can drop me off there. I'll walk the rest of the way."

Freed drove down a road mostly empty, although there were a few cars out, people coming home from bars, night owls up for nocturnal wandering, and a few night-shift workers coming back from a tiring evening of work. Freed realized Laxus was holding his mouth again, so he turned on the radio.

"You don't seem like the classical music type," Freed mentioned.

"Shows how much bullshit you assume based on my appearance," Laxus mumbled.

"Do you like opera? I have a friend, Mira, who sings at the local opera house. She gives me tickets once in a while."

Laxus glared over at him. "That almost sounds like a date."

Freed chuckled and shook his head. "I don't hit on straight guys. I'm just trying to think of something we can do, something we both like. We both like classical music. It's a start."

"A start to what?" the gruff man grumbled.

"Being friends. Nothing romantic, just friends."

Laxus glared at him for a minute. "You honestly do sound like you're not interested in romance anymore."

Freed was amused at how he said that in such a hard way, yet almost with a pouting sound to his words. "Like I said, I won't hit on a guy if I know for sure that he's heterosexual. It's a crappy thing to do and makes people uncomfortable, just as awkward as I feel if a lady tries to hit on me."

"I see," Laxus muttered. "I guess that's good. You respect them."

"If I want people to respect my orientation, I have to respect theirs. Still, and I don't mean to sound rude, but it seems so weird, thinking you're a straight man working at a gay strip club. I guess it makes sense, though. You can dance for them and never have to worry about getting sexually aroused. I'm sure that's something men have a big problem with. It's so easy to tell on guys." He laughed as he realized that maybe female strippers had an advantage in that department.

Laxus was quiet as they drove along the shadowy boulevard. Finally, he muttered, "I guess it's more like I'm not gay, but I'm not straight."

Freed glanced over, surprised by that revelation. "You mentioned that you don't get aroused by people. Asexual?"

Laxus sputtered out a sigh. "Hell if I know. I don't label it. Girls are hot; guys aren't bad. Still, I don't really wanna fuck either one. I guess I'm just not interested in either gender sexually." He mumbled to himself. "Not until now."

Freed slammed on the breaks, and the car behind him honked angrily. He looked over in surprise.

Laxus roared, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Not until now?" Freed repeated in shock.

"You could have caused an accident."

"What do you mean, _not until now_?"

"I don't know. Drive already!"

Slowly, Freed started the car moving again. Laxus rubbed out the tension in his forehead.

"Seriously, don't scare me like that. I don't handle transportation well as it is, so I don't need you driving like a crazy person." They were both silent for a while. Then the car came to a stop at a red light. The motion sickness twisting in Laxus' gut eased up while they were halted, and finally he felt like he could talk. "I just meant that you're interesting. That's all. I noticed you in the audience, but I didn't know why you were there. Then you called for me. That takes guts. You're not like people who normally request me. You're an enigma, you're more forward than what I'm used to, and a lot younger than the people I normally get. You're funny and awkward and pretty good company for drinking. You're into a cool sport like sword fighting, you're not all passive and mewling, and you're a hot dude."

Freed jolted, and he was glad they were stopped at the light. Laxus thought he was … hot? He felt his face beaming with an eager smile.

"I don't think I'd actually want to fuck you," Laxus clarified, "but I wouldn't mind doing … other stuff."

"More than drinks?"

Laxus folded his arms and looked out the window to hide his blush. "Yeah, more than drinks."

"_Stuff_ as in…?"

"Whatever you're wanting," he shouted irritably. "Ya wanna act submissive to me, I can do that. You want tied up, smacked around, wanna be turned into a piece of furniture or an animal, it's all good."

"But you wouldn't get any satisfaction from it," Freed pointed out.

Laxus gave a petulant shrug. "I might. You're about my age, you're hot, you're not some saggy meatbag with warts and wrinkles. It could be … fun."

Freed watched the red light and thought about this offer. "Do I have to pay?"

"Only for the hotel. I ain't got the money to cover costs like that."

"I don't want to be a _client_."

"Dammit, I'm offering this on my own accord," Laxus snapped. "However, I can still pick what I do and don't do."

"Fair enough. Do you want to head back to that igloo place?"

"The cheap motel? I hate that shit-hole."

"Then someplace nicer than that. A real hotel? The Hilton is close by."

"Can you afford it?"

"I won my last fencing tourney. I can afford it."

"If we're gonna do this, I need another drink."

"I'll get a room with a wet bar."

"Now you're talkin'," Laxus chuckled. However, the laugh was quieted when the light turned green and Freed began to drive. Laxus held his hand up to his mouth again.

"You really have an issue with motion sickness, huh?"

"I don't like to talk about it."

"Has to do with your father then, right?"

Laxus glared over to the driver's seat. "For bringing that up, I want to beat the shit out of you right now."

"I might like that," Freed smirked. "I was just telling Bob today…"

"Bob the drag queen?"

"Yep, him. I told him I think I'm a masochist. I'm not sure if I like being _beaten_, but I like the idea of being restrained, maybe teased without fulfillment."

Laxus blinked his eyes in shock. "You like…? Fuck!" He looked away and covered his gaping mouth.

"What?" Freed asked in worry. "Are you sick again? I can pull over."

"No. That's what the old men like. _Fuck!_"

"Do you mean, no fulfillment? Is that bad?"

"No, it makes it easier on me, but … but I was thinking … of maybe fulfilling you."

Freed slammed on the breaks again, and this time the driver behind him shrieked "_Asshole!_"

Laxus also screamed at him. "I'm serious, drive properly or I'm jumping out of this moving death-box."

"Fulfilling me?"

"Do you repeat everything I say?" Laxus snapped. "Drive, and the next time you slam on the breaks, I'm jumping out of this car and walking home."

Freed made sure to drive as safely and smoothly as possible as he continued to the hotel.

"Look, if you want just a cock-tease, I can do that. I'm good at it. Damn good. But you came pretty quickly earlier."

"I'm really sorry…"

"Shut up!" he snapped, and Freed jolted to obey. "I just thought … well, I can work on you with that. I was distracted earlier tonight, what with Jellal threatening to fire me, so I wasn't paying attention to your needs. If we're in a hotel, I can train your body to hold back until I _allow you_ to come. It'll help you with the premature ejaculation issue. Just an offer, though."

"Can you … can you tease me all night?" he asked nervously.

"I'm off work tomorrow. Do you want to set a time limit?"

"Sunrise," Freed said instantly. "I want to be able to hold off until the sun rises."

"That's one hell of a cock-tease! I've never done it that long. Those old men can usually only last an hour. Four hours … you'll be hurting. Seriously hurting."

"Good," Freed smiled slyly.

Laxus chortled wryly. "You really are a masochist."

"I figured I probably was one. Are you really a sadist, or is that just your job?"

"Sometimes after I've beaten up an old man, I go home and jerk off to videos of BDSM torture."

"I'd like to see you do that while you work on me."

"Jerk off, you mean? Hell, if you can last all four hours, I'll spray it on your face."

Freed's foot began to move over to the break pedal again.

Laxus screamed at him, "Slam on the fucking brakes again and I'm gone!"

He forced himself to keep driving, although his hands clenched the wheel as he imagined this thunder god's cock covering his face in cum.

"I seriously am a masochist," Freed mumbled.

**End of Chapter 4**

* * *

_A/N: And you're seriously in for a world of fun, Freed._

_Freed's drink (Sapphire martini, up, two olives to the side in a shot glass) is one of my favorite drinks, and how I order a martini. I like martinis, I love olives, but I don't like how the olives affect the taste of the martini. I used to order just a plain Sapphire martini and simply eat the olives right away, before they could affect the gin. Then one day I was out celebrating with a music mentor of mine, and he ordered his martini with the olives to the side in a shot glass. After I saw him do that, I began ordering the same way._

_I know some pompous asshole will argue with me about drinking scotch. It always happens. You know what? Up yours! Scotch is to be enjoyed, and if you enjoy it straight up, on the rocks, or with a water back, if you like it, it's how you drink it. According to one dear Scotsman I know, "The theory that straight up scotch is the only proper way to drink it is pure and utter bullocks. It's an idea invented by Americans who don't know how we Scots actually drink. I order with a water back. I enjoy it that way. So that's my proper way to drink. Scotch is to be enjoyed, plain and simple."_

_On a side note, Chartreuse is seriously one of the most interesting liqueurs in the world, only two monks in France know how to make it, and it's GREEN, so perfect for Freed. However, the taste is not for everyone._

_I do not promote the Hilton Hotels, Bombay Sapphire, Johnnie Walker Blue Label, Carthusian monks, or drinking and driving._


	5. Supplies and Surprise

Chapter 5

**Supplies and Surprise**

As they drove on, Laxus kept one hand pressed against his mouth. In spite of the music, his stomach jolted with the motion of the car, the blurring of the passing scenery, and occasional stops and starts as they reached traffic lights.

"Hold up. Stop here, this shopping center," he suddenly mumbled.

Freed looked over. Laxus was pale. He figured that maybe the man just needed some air and to rest, so he gently pulled the car over to a parking lot with a galleria of boutiques and other quaint shops. As soon as the engine turned off, Laxus got out of the car and began to walk away. Worried, Freed scurried out and followed.

"Wait, where are you going?" he cried out.

"I need a moment to rest my stomach, and you need supplies."

"Huh?"

Laxus glanced back, and there was a smile on his gruff face. "You're new to this. You don't have anything, do you?"

Freed froze and gulped hard. "S-s-supplies?"

Laxus chuckled and kept walking. Freed hurried after him. Finally, near the back of the galleria, he saw a store that was actually open, although it was after 2AM.

"W-wait! That's … it's … it's a…"

"A sex shop," Laxus nodded. "It's fine. I know one of the workers."

Freed had checked out the "adult" section in the library once in college, but he had never entered a sex shop. Fretfully, he continued on and entered just behind Laxus. Inside the store, the lights were dim, the walls were painted black with red highlights, and there were shelves upon shelves of items.

"I wanna pick up something," Laxus told him. "Browse around. If you want anything in particular, better buy it now. I told you, you provide your own stuff."

"B-but … I…" Laxus took off before Freed could speak clearly. He was left by the entrance, alone and nervous. "I don't even know what to get," he whispered.

Freed gawked as he shuffled slowly through the aisles. There was a full wall of dildos of every shape and size (and some that were outright terrifying!) Strap-ons, masturbation sleeves, anal beads, butt plugs, two-way dildos, blowup dolls, handcuffs, whips, crops, clamps, anything and everything he had ever seen used in online porno movies was all crammed into this tiny store. Most of the items were clothes: frilly lingerie, sexy schoolgirl and naughty nurse costumes, even hardcore BDSM bondage gear. He looked at one area that seemed innocent, what looked like candy and boardgames, until he realized they were lolli-cocks, gummy boobies, and sexual favor games. He quickly dropped the penis-shaped dessert and backed away.

He was amazed to see a corner of the store that appeared to be a library, with plush chairs and a reading lamp. This looked the most relaxing and least perverted, so he walked over there. The books, however, consisted of _The Kama Sutra_, _The Joy of Sex_, _The Perfumed Garden_, _The Mirror of Coitus_, _The Tao of Love and Sex_, _Tantric Sex for Lesbians_, _Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex: But Were Afraid to Ask_, and he was not at all surprised to find _Fifty Shades of Grey_, _Delta of Venus_, and _The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty_.

Freed sat in one of the chairs and gazed around, truly in over his head. He might have been frequenting a strip club for months now, but this was still far more than he had ever considered.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. He looked around frantically to see if anyone was around. There was a lady at the cash register playing on her phone, two ladies checking out the dildo display, and one man studiously searching between condom brands. Freed bit his lip, slipped silently off the chair, and weaved through the racks of sexy costumes and foreplay toys. He saw a riding crop hanging on a hook. Freed used to go riding on his family's estate. It was considered an appropriate past time for the son of a rich businessman. Even back then as a child, Freed sometimes flicked the riding crop against his own leg, feeling a thrill at the light pain.

"Good choice."

Freed screamed and leaped around, making everyone in the store look over to him.

Laxus laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Easy there, Greenie. Does this interest you?"

Freed's shaking hands had gripped the riding crop so hard, the flexible stick was bowed. "It … it's … a good crop. Good quality."

He heard the two girls whisper to one another, "Omigosh, he is such a stereotypical uke. It's adorable!"

"Yeah, and look at the seme! Oh man, if I was into guys, I would want him."

Laxus rolled his eyes at their whispers but otherwise ignored them. "You gonna get it?"

Freed looked at the crop. "Can … can you use it?"

"I'm damn good at it."

He gulped thickly. "Then, this. It's not that expensive, either." He saw Laxus already had an opaque black bag. "What did you get?"

"This?" He shook the bag, then he leaned in close and whispered, "You get to find out soon."

Freed gulped hard and hoped that no one would care if he got a little erect in a shop like this.

"You might want lube," Laxus suggested. He went ahead, reached to a shelf, and pulled down a bottle of anal lubricant. "Oh, and … um … this." He plucked out something else.

"What is that?" Freed asked suspiciously.

Laxus glanced down at him. "Have you ever had someone play with you _down there_?"

Freed blushed heavily. "N-no, not really."

Laxus showed him the box. "Enema. It'll help."

"Oh!" he squeaked. He had read websites that mentioned that.

"Hmm … maybe a toy?" Laxus asked, eying the shelves and ignoring the look of blended horror, arousal, and uncertainty in the young, green-haired man. "I'm not sure what you're wanting."

"Me neither," he mumbled, looking around at all the possibilities. It was intensely intimidating.

"Get a cock ring, at least. You have that … _issue_."

Freed blushed heavily, being reminded of how he came so quickly earlier that night.

"Hey, don't worry," Laxus smiled, wrapping an arm around his thin shoulders. "We're gonna work on that, right?"

"R-right," he muttered.

"A cock ring will help. Let's see … not metal, those are a bitch. We don't need a vibrating one or anything weird. Here." He pulled off a small box with a picture of a simple circle. "Stretchy, so it won't hurt. You're not packing a monster in there, are you?"

"Packing a…? Oh!" he cried out, realizing what Laxus meant. "Uh … no, wish I was, haha!" He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head, but then he realized he was acting like a nervous idiot. "Um, no, I'm pretty average in size, I guess."

"Good. Being large in girth means a lot of toys just don't work."

Freed dared to tease this thunder god. "Are you saying that out of experience?"

Laxus glanced down, once again amused that this mouse sure knew when to bite. "Actually, yeah."

Freed's tongue dragged over his lip as he thought about what sort of _package _Laxus must have. If all went well tonight, he would find out.

"Ready to go?"

Oh _God_, was he ready!

Freed paid for his items. He feared the cashier might glance at him and Laxus in bawdy amusement. Instead, she rang up the merchandise as if he was buying milk and bread. He supposed, compared to some of the items in the store, a riding crop and cock ring were really tame. They put their purchases in the back of the car, and Freed continued down the road.

It was only a few minutes before they saw the large hotel. Freed parked, they took their bags, and they walked in. Rather than some dusty lobby with spiderwebs and flickering neon lights, the entryway to the Hilton was posh, and the nightwatch worker somehow had a beaming smile despite it being two in the morning. Freed ordered a room with a single twin-size bed. It was the cheapest that had a wet bar, and he figured they would probably not be doing much sleeping in that room. He really wished the rest of the world would adopt the Japanese custom of love hotels.

They rode an elevator to get to the floor. Freed twitched his fingers, a nervous habit he had in elevators.

"Relax," Laxus said soothingly. "We won't do anything you don't want."

Freed was about to assure him that his twitching was not about what was to come, but he realized that he really was feeling anxious deep down inside. He was heading to a hotel room with the man he had fantasied about for months. He had never had a sexual encounter with another person, nothing beyond making out with boys, and certainly nothing like what he was about to experience.

They arrived, he used an electronic key to enter, and he turned the lights on in the hotel room. It was more spacious than he had thought it would be, and they were near the top floor, high above the city. Laxus immediately checked out the wet bar and found it nicely stocked. He offered to get a bucket of ice from the disperser machine down the hall. While he was gone, Freed went to the restroom, used the enema, and made sure he was clean down there. He was still wearing Laxus' boxers and the borrowed trousers. He would have to give those back.

Once he was done, he walked to the large window and peered down at the empty streets. This whole night felt surreal. It was a dream, right? He was at home, fantasizing about "Thor" again, that stripper with the lightning bolt scar.

He heard the door behind him open, and in walked his thunder god. Freed's heart raced. This was no nighttime fantasy. Thor was Laxus. Laxus was about to give Freed his first taste of BDSM. No sex, just kinks. Merely watching the hulking man walk around aroused him.

"Need a drink?" Laxus asked as he pulled out two tumblers and filled them with ice from the bucket.

"Nothing strong," Freed whispered.

"You sound like you need a strong one."

"No, I've drunk enough tonight. I shouldn't have even been driving, but I figured if you get carsick, you probably wouldn't want to drive."

"Never learned how, to be honest." Laxus opted for some straight up spiced rum. He then made Freed a Cuba Libre, with Coke and white rum. "Cheers."

"_Kanpai_," Freed smiled, clinking glasses before sipping the alcoholic soda. "So, how does something like this start out? Do I just get naked? Do we make out? No kissing allowed? Can we work up to it?"

"Dunno," Laxus shrugged laconically. "I work differently depending on the client. Usually, I take charge right away, order them around, demand that they prepare themselves, and humiliate them the whole time. Wanna try that?"

"I … I dunno. Maybe?"

"Or we can ease into it."

"Y-yeah," he nodded, gripping the highball glass to keep from shaking.

A large hand stroke down his hair. "Relax, kid."

"I'm … I've never…"

"You don't have to worry about anything. Surrender everything to me. I'll take care of everything. I'll tell you what to do. Don't think. Just obey me."

Freed looked up in surprise. Obey him? As he gazed into those electric blue eyes, he wanted to worship this thunder god.

"I'll obey," he whispered obediently.

"Good boy," Laxus smiled. "First, close the curtains. I'm not here to give a show."

Freed felt numb as he stood, set his glass aside, and walked to the window. He looked out at the _real world _one last time. Closing off these curtains was not just to give them privacy. It was to separate them completely from life outside this hotel room. He was willingly trapping himself in a fairy tale land.

"Good. Have you used the enema?"

"Y-yes," he muttered, feeling embarrassed.

"Good. Now, stand beside the bed and face me."

Laxus leaned back in a chair as he watch Freed obeying his orders. He liked being able to demand others to obey his whims. In real life, he had a shitty childhood, a shitty teenage life, and now he worked a shitty job with a shitty boss who had threatened to fire him more times than Laxus could count. Here, he ruled. His orders were absolute. _He _was the boss. He was a _god_, and this was his realm! Laxus liked the feel of that power.

"Remove your socks and shoes," he said, and he took a sip of the spiced rum as he waiting. "Now your shirt." He liked the blush on Freed's cheeks as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off thin but toned arms, and set it aside. "Now your belt, but leave your pants on."

Freed gulped as he threaded his leather belt out from his pants.

"Hand it to me." Laxus stuck his hand out, and Freed obediently delivered the belt into that massive palm. "See, obeying me is easy, right?"

Freed meekly whispered, "Yes."

"Say, _yes sir_."

"Yes … sir."

"Good. You will address me as sir. Or do you prefer _master_?"

"I … I … uh…" Freed dropped his head. "Sir is fine for now."

"Of course it is. Now, fetch the bag I bought, but don't peek."

Freed walked barefoot and shirtless to the black bag. He felt there were a few items in there.

"This isn't just for you," Laxus clarified sternly. "It's something I've been meaning to get for months, and this is just a good excuse. Got it?"

"Right," he nodded. He should not expect that Laxus would buy something just for him.

Laxus reached into the black bag and pulled out two boxes. One looked like some sort of control system, and Freed saw from the picture on the front, it was almost like a remote control, but with disk-shaped pads like something a doctor would hook up to monitor the heart. When Laxus pulled out the other box, Freed coughed in surprise.

"That's … it … it's a—"

"Butt plug," Laxus smirked, and he handed the box to Freed. "I warned you to buy lube, right? But this isn't some average lump of silicone to shove up your ass. It attaches to this," he said, holding up the first box. "Do you know what this is?"

Freed had no clue. The box only said ElectroStim Ero-Controller.

"You're into sports, or at least fencing. Ever been injured and had a physical therapist put on electrical stimulators to massage the muscles?"

"Yes, it happened when I injured my elbow a couple years ago."

"Same concept, but instead of hooking up to some pads that go on your arm, this hooks up to that," he said, nodding to the butt plug box still in Freed's hands.

"It … zaps you?" he asked in a breathy whisper. "In- … inside?" He felt the blood rushing south really fast.

"That's right," Laxus chuckled. "I'm not gonna fuck you. I'm gonna watch this give you the tingling prostate massage of your life, and with this controller, I'll be able to adjust how much electricity you get. I won't let you come. Not until sunrise. That was the deal, right?"

"I feel like I could come just thinking about it," Freed admitted.

"I won't _let _you." Laxus' eyes were hard. "Starting right now, I'll be that lightning god you thought I was all this time. I'll zap your ass, and I'll train you to obey me. Ooh yes," he chuckled, watching the shock in Freed's face. "This is gonna be fun."

**End of Chapter 5**

* * *

_A/N: All of the books in the sex shop's library are real. I do not promote any of those books, but I recommend almost all of them ... except "Fifty Shades of Grey," unless you're a masochist._


	6. Electric Blue

Chapter 6

**Electric Blue**

Freed thought Laxus would immediately start to do something. Instead, the blond sat in a chair, fingers together with his chin resting on the tips, staring at Freed. Those electric blue eyes were so potent, Freed felt himself blushing hard. He looked away uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?" asked Laxus.

"N-nothing. Just … you're staring."

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"What I should do with you first?" He continued to stare, and Freed felt tiny as he was scrutinized. "Does this make you uncomfortable?" Laxus asked in amusement. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me. Not just from this. To assure you, I'm clean."

Freed looked up in surprise. "Wh-what? Clean?"

"I figure you might be worried about that sort of thing, especially considering my profession. I don't do drugs, and you know what my sex life is like. Still, Jellal has us tested once a month, some law I guess. None of his strippers are allowed to have an STD. We'd get fired. Our tests were last week. I'm clean. I've never had an STD in my life."

"Oh!" Freed had not even been thinking about that sort of thing, but he belatedly realized that this was really important. After all, strippers had reputations. "Um, me neither. Well, I can't say I get tested, but … before today … a-and I don't do drugs. Well, once there was that frat party with the marijuana, but besides that…"

"Shut up already."

"Ah! Y-yes, sir."

"What party?" Laxus demanded.

"It was, um, a party on my campus. Some Greek-letter fraternity, I'm not even sure which, a friend dragged me there. It ended up out of hand, kinda turned into an orgy."

"Did anyone do anything to you?"

"I got felt up by a girl just before bolting out of the dorm."

"Bitch," Laxus grumbled. Freed was amused to see him looking jealous. "Do girls often flirt with you?"

"I'm not sure I'd say it happens _often_…"

"Don't go to parties like that anymore," Laxus snapped. "College frat parties and drugs … too much trouble could happen."

"I don't do that anymore," he assured. Still, this jealous side was amusing. "You can't really order me not to do it, anyway." He knew he sounded flippant, but he wanted to tease his thunder god just a little.

Laxus finally stood and strode up to him. He glared down hard, and Freed cowered before those predatory eyes. "If I said don't do it, then don't do it."

Freed felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. "Y-yes, sir." Right at that moment, he felt like if Laxus had ordered him not to breathe, he would have died of asphyxiation.

"Remove your clothes."

Freed gasped as his heart surged. It was about to happen!

"Now!" came a quiet but forceful order.

Freed slowly undid his pants and stripped off the last of his clothes. He gulped as he stood there, completely naked. He almost wanted to cover himself, hide his shame, but a small part of him also wanted Laxus to see and approve of him.

"You actually look good," Laxus said, as good of a compliment as he would dole out. "Now, walk over to the bed. Lie just the top of your body down."

Shaking with the thrill of this perversion, Freed walked to the luxurious bed and laid his torso down with his feet still on the floor.

"Spread your legs a little." He obeyed the order. "Hands out in front of you." Again, he followed the commands and stretched his hands above his head. He heard Laxus striding forward slowly. "Going to frat parties, huh? Aren't you a college student? Shouldn't you be studying? Yet here you are, partying, going to strip clubs, propositioning strippers—"

"I didn't—"

There was a whistle through the air, and something smacked him on the butt. Freed gasped and stared straight ahead, trying to sort out what just happened. That … was a riding crop. Laxus had just whipped him. It took him a moment to even process this fact. Freed had never even been spanked in his life. His parents firmly did not agree with the practice of physically punishing children. So the strike shocked him.

"How many university parties have you been to?"

Adrenaline made Freed shiver. "I … I don't know. Um … less than ten?"

"Less than ten, huh? Shall we make it nine?"

"Huh?"

Laxus chuckled softly and leaned in close to Freed's ear. In a sinful whisper, he explained, "I'm punishing you."

"O-oh!" Punishing! Being scolded, being upbraided, belittled, humiliated, whipped into obedience: there was no longer any doubt in Freed's mind. He was definitely into this sort of perverted thing. "Um … well, in that case, can we round it up and make it ten?"

"Heh! Masochist."

The riding crop struck him so suddenly, Freed cried out with a high yelp. He was instantly humiliated by the distinctly unmasculine sound.

"Are you okay?" Laxus asked with wry amusement.

"Just … didn't expect it."

"It's best that way." He cracked the riding crop over Freed's bare ass again. "But seriously, if I hit you too hard, you gotta tell me."

"I'm fine, really."

"You won't be later. Think of a word, one you'll remember, but one you don't use often."

"Huh?"

"You need a safeword. It shouldn't be a word you'd use casually, though. It's something you only say if what I do is way too much. I won't stop if you tell me to stop, but I absolutely will if you use the safeword."

"Okay. I … I've read about safewords. Um … something I would remember … ah! _Écriture_."

Laxus arched an eyebrow. "The hell sorta word is that?"

"French," he shrugged meekly. "It means _writing_. I … I kinda … like writing stuff."

"Only a pretty rich boy like you would use some foreign word like that." Laxus whacked the crop against him again. "Trying to make me look dumb?" He let the crop fly again, whipping Freed on the butt.

"Ahhh! N-no, I'm not … I didn't mean…"

"It's a nice sound, you speaking French." Laxus whispered again into his ear. "Maybe I should push your limits just so I can hear it again."

He slapped even harder, and Freed shouted. That time, it really hurt. However, Laxus struck again, and the sting pierced deep into Freed. He clutched at the bed cover.

"S-stop," he gasped.

The leather tongue of the riding crop struck again, almost shattering him. "I said I wouldn't stop if you say stop. Only the safeword. Is it really too much to handle? If it is, you gotta use that word."

Was it? It hurt, his ass stung, but he also liked this. It was supposed to hurt. That was the whole point. How much was too much?

The crop struck again, like a firebrand against already raw skin. Freed cried out at the pain, but he struggled to hold it in. Then another struck, much harder than all the others. This time, Freed's knees buckled under him. He slid to the floor, sobbing into the bed.

"_Écriture_," he groaned. He understood fully now what _too much_ felt like.

Arms grabbed him. He flinched, fearing more punishment, but instead Laxus placed him gently on top of the bed.

"I told you, nine was enough. Ten was too much. Also, sorry if that was mean of me. I need to test your limits, though. I also really need to make sure you know how to use a safeword. That's important. Are you okay?"

Hardly thinking, Freed grabbed onto Laxus and clutched to him as he cried. To his amazement, Laxus stroked down his long, green hair.

A low but protective rumble purred out of that large chest. "It's over. It's safe."

"It … hurt," Freed sobbed.

"Of course it did." The words were quiet, not mocking, not hurtful, just stating a fact. "Should we stop now?"

The trembling slowly faded, and with its passing, Freed felt something more, something warm and gentle, like pure liquid happiness flowing through his veins, filling him up from the inside. He raised his eyes into a gaze as warm and blue as a summer sky.

"No. More."

Laxus had a surprisingly gentle smile. "Not many ask for more the first day."

Freed's brow creased distastefully. "Can you not talk about others when you're with me?"

"Fine. Same goes for you, though. No more talking about frat parties and flirty college girls."

"Agreed."

"It's just us when we're in this room. Nothing else exists."

Freed felt that liquid happiness gushing outward from his heart. "That's what I want," he whispered, closing his eyes and surrendering to the emotions. "Nothing else. Just this."

Laxus gazed at the young man's thin lips. "Just you and me." His eyes softened as he watched the parted lips and the way Freed's gasps and slowing sobs passed over his mouth. Laxus began to lean in, but suddenly he pulled back. Freed's eyes were shut, so he did not see the shock and confusion in the burly man's face. Laxus looked aside, scowling at himself, but then he glanced back over, and his eyes went tender again.

"You're already panting a lot. Your throat must be dry. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please."

"Hmm … nope, I don't like that."

Freed dared to look up, shocked that Laxus disapproved.

"How about this? I read it in a book once. You like books, yes?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"When I ask if you want something, you have two ways to answer. If the answer is yes, say 'Only if it pleases you, sir.' If the answer is no, say 'Not unless it pleases you, sir.' So … would you like a drink?"

"Only if it pleases you, sir."

"Lovely," Laxus smiled. He rose and walked over to the glasses set on a dresser. Laxus grabbed the tumbler, took a sip for himself, and walked back to the bed with the glass in his hand. "Get ready for it."

Freed sat up, expecting to take the glass. Instead, Laxus took another drink and held the liquid in his cheeks. He tipped Freed's head up, leaned over him, and placed his lips over Freed's. The green-haired man gasped, and just then Laxus let the alcohol flow down into the waiting mouth. The potency of the spiced rum was nothing compared to the firmness of Laxus' lips. Freed had pretty much surrendered any hopes that romance could be involved, but this … it was sweet, in its own way.

Laxus pulled back and smiled down at the complaisant face. "Was that good?"

"Y-yes, sir," he said in a daze.

"Do you want more?"

"Um, not unless it pleases you, sir."

"Very good." He lightly slid his thumb over Freed's lip to wipe away a drop. He paused at the action, and with another scowl he drew his hand back. "Damn you," he whispered.

Freed jolted out of his haziness. Was Laxus angry? Why?

Laxus set the tumbler on the nightstand and rose again. He walked over to the gifts he had bought. "Are you ready to try this?"

Freed choked up. He tried to find words, but his mind was too scrambled.

"Hey. We don't have to."

"No, just … I … I've never…" He blushed heavily and looked away. "I've never put something like _that_ up there." He cringed a little. "Does it hurt?"

"It can," Laxus said honestly. "No more than taking a really constipated dump. If it hurts too much, tell me. It shouldn't be truly painful. If it is, something could be the matter, and we'd need to stop."

"The matter?" he asked sharply. "Why? What could happen? Is it safe? Has anything bad ever happened?"

"We promised not to talk about others. Do you really wanna know?"

"Tell me! Um, please, sir?"

Laxus folded his arms and spoke with little emotion besides disgust. "I had a client who apparently had a polyp in his colon. He had me use a plug on him, didn't tell me it was hurting, bastard never did use a safeword, until suddenly I saw blood and pus pouring out his asshole. I had to call an ambulance and hurry out of there. I left him with the plug still up him so he wouldn't bleed out. I bet he had a hell of a time explaining that to the paramedics."

"What happened to him?"

"Dunno, don't care. He lived, still wanted more. I refused to take him back. I was vomiting off and on for a week by just the memory of it. I don't ever want to see something like that again. That's when I decided any clients need to know how the hell to use a safeword, and if they get hurt beyond repair, I'm outta there. I won't stick around to face police questioning."

"Sheesh! Has anyone ever actually tried to sue you?"

"I've heard that one called the South Pole Club, but Jellal doesn't give out our names, and I'm usually careful about not letting anyone know me. Even my coworkers don't know my last name, only Jellal, and only because it's on my employee forms. Besides, a lawsuit with a stripper who you hired from a gay strip club to be your personal sadist? Not exactly the type of publicity these sorts of men want."

"I … I wouldn't do that!" Freed shouted loyally.

"You better as hell not! I know your full name. One phone call from me to your parents, and I can guarantee you'll not receive a penny of your inheritance."

"Like I even care about that," Freed muttered. "Still, I wouldn't. I know what I'm getting into. So long as you stop when I say so, so long as you don't do anything I don't actually want, I won't complain."

"Good. Right now, I'm asking if you want this." He held up the butt plug again.

Freed stared at it with trepidation, but when he looked into Laxus' blue eyes, he knew he could trust this man.

"Only if it pleases you, sir!"

Laxus smirked and began to open the box.

Freed kept his gaze averted, hoping that if he did not look, he would not get too scared. He had used his fingers before, but never a sex toy. It was scary, but also there was a thrill to it. Laxus had purchased this just for him. He wanted to use this special gift bought by a man he had secretly lusted over for months.

When something touched his shoulder, Freed jolted and gulped down a shriek.

"Easy there," Laxus said softly. "I won't let it hurt, okay? I figured this might be an issue, since you're completely inexperienced. I'll do something I normally never do; I'll prep you myself."

"Prep?" Freed suddenly realized Laxus was wearing latex gloves. "What…?"

"We'll take it slow."

Freed was still confused, until Laxus pulled forward the bottle of lubricant and drizzled it onto his gloved hand.

"Oh! Prep," he gasped softly as it dawned on him. "Yeah, that … maybe that will help."

"Of course it will," Laxus said flatly. "Face up or face down?"

"I … um … c-can I look up? If I see you, I'll be calmer." He was surprised to hear Laxus chuckle. "What?"

"Most people feel too ashamed to show their face to me. They want it face-down. You think seeing me will calm you down? You're a weird one."

"Your eyes are … calming," Freed muttered, pouting at being called weird.

"Then look up at me."

Freed gazed up into that face. The scar running down one eye caught his attention for a moment, as it always did, but then the intense color of his irises sucked him in. He felt Laxus touch his asshole. He flinched in a moment of embarrassment and panic, yet when he looked up again, those electric blue eyes calmed him.

"You really are something, Greenie."

"Freed," he breathed faintly, waiting for more.

Laxus gave a silent chuckle. "Freed," he whispered, and slowly his finger pressed in.

Freed moaned loudly.

"Don't clench."

He panted as he tried to calm down.

"Better. Stay loose and it won't hurt."

Once as a child, Freed had such a horrible fever, he needed a suppository. He would not say that was when he realized he was gay, he was too young to know things like that, but it was definitely the first time he realized he liked the feel of something up his ass. He had hazy memories of being scolded harshly as a tiny child for poking himself in the butt. His parents said it was dirty, disgusting, and Freed figured they were right. Poop came out of there, and even a six-year-old knew that poop was dirty. As he reached puberty, he did research online, innocent searches for what these things were he heard about in school, or desires he had that made no sense to his naïve mind. Somewhere along the way, he accidentally discovered a gay porn site.

Freed had seen boys at school with naughty magazines, or internet ads for hot ladies looking for a good time. He was never interested in girls, but when he saw those two men together, he was so aroused, he came without even touching himself.

He felt guilty. He knew what people said about homosexuals, and at least once a month there was news of a gay person coming under attack, or other countries oppressing homosexuals. He did not want to be hated. At one of his parents' numerous parties, he overheard gossip about one of the other upper class families who disowned a son when he came out as being gay. Freed did not want trouble with his family. He was indifferent about his parents at that point, but he did not want Evergreen and Bickslow to suffer public humiliation just because of him.

He visited gay sites covertly and kept his orientation a close secret. His late-night wanking sessions had to be done fast, before anyone suspected. Maybe it was years of jerking off as fast as possible that led him to have issues with premature ejaculation. He also read it could be emotional, a feeling of shame and guilt. He had no clue, but as a teen, being able to come in just a few minutes was an advantage. It was not until college, an incident of coming in his pants when two girls at a party were watching yaoi anime, that Freed realized this was a real issue.

And then earlier tonight … again…

"Laxus!"

A hand choked his penis, and the finger that had been wiggling inside came to a stop.

"I won't let you come," Laxus said forcefully.

Freed felt almost on the brink, but the grip, almost painful but not quite, stopped him.

"You're just really sensitive," Laxus realized. "I bet almost anything can affect you."

He leaned over and merely blew across Freed's nipple. The lithe body arched up with a quivering cry.

"Yep, like I thought. You've never really been touched, have you?"

Freed looked away with humiliation. "I've done … stuff. Not like this, though."

"Heh! That innocent side of you is cute."

Freed looked up in shock. "Cute?"

A second later, Laxus looked shocked as he realized what he had just said.

"Laxus," Freed whispered. "Will you train my body?"

"Oh shit, do _not_ say it like that!"

"Like what?"

"Sexy!" Laxus snapped. "Like you want me to devour you."

"I do," he answered honestly.

Laxus looked away with a bright blush. "What is it about you?" he grumbled. "I'm not even fuckin' gay, but you…" His voice trailed off.

"Maybe you're bisexual and just never knew it."

"Nah, I've watched plenty of porn. Only thing that ever did it for me was hardcore BDSM."

"Then maybe it's mental. Maybe because you know you're going to do stuff to me."

"I do this shit all the time," he snapped.

"To old men who repulse you," Freed pointed out. "When was the last time you were ever intimate with someone your age?"

Laxus grumbled something.

"What?"

"I said _not since high school_, all right!" he barked.

"Really?"

"What's it to you?" he said angrily to cover his embarrassment.

"They were probably all girls, right?"

"Thinking back, yeah."

"So, you've never been with a young man."

"Guess not."

"I'm your first."

Laxus looked petulant and said nothing.

"Laxus, put two fingers in."

"What? But, you're ready to come from just this."

"Even if I do, it's okay."

"No, it's not! I said I wouldn't let you until sunrise."

"Please, Laxus," he begged. "If it pleases you, sir, I need more."

"Fuck you," he whispered, but Laxus slid a second finger in anyway.

The pain did just what Freed figured it would. It withered him just a little, just enough, so he no longer felt the need to come.

"P-pain," he shuddered.

"If it hurts too much—"

"No!" he shouted. "Pain … makes it better. Takes it away."

"What away?"

"The need … to hurry." His eyes looked up with tears moistening the corners. "Make it hurt more, please, sir."

"Fuck," Laxus hissed. He pressed the fingers in harder, and Freed cried out. "Pain makes it _better_, huh? Do you have any clue how much pain I can give you?" He pumped the fingers in rapidly, then slowly spread his fingers until Freed moaned louder. "I could ram that butt plug in right now and make you sob like a child."

"Please…"

"Shut up! I could really hurt you bad, black and blue and bleeding. Do you want that, too?"

"Nnngh!"

"Don't moan in such a sexy way. Shit, I should have had you facing down."

"No! Wanna … wanna see you."

"Yeah, but then I have to see these faces you're making." He pulled his fingers out, rose off the bed, and walked away. "It's not fair."

Freed was panting and shocked that Laxus moved away so suddenly. "Wh-what? What i-isn't … f-fair?" he huffed through a dry throat.

"That with you, I can do _this_!" Laxus grabbed the glass of rum, took a drink, and pressed his lips against Freed's. The liquid poured into his mouth. Freed obediently swallowed, but then something else passed his lips, something soft that sent jolts through his whole mouth. His eyes opened wide as he realized Laxus was kissing him and using his tongue with such aggression, Freed could hardly even moan. His mouth was being assaulted by Laxus' tongue.

He remembered what Laxus said. He never kissed clients. He wondered if this thunder god had ever kissed at all before. By the firmness of the kiss and the powerful stroking of his tongue, he guessed Laxus at least had some experience with this much.

Laxus pulled up with flushed cheeks. "It's not fair that if I do just that much with you, it affects me."

Freed's eyes widened. "Affects you?"

"You have a horrible habit of repeating everything I say." He wiped the rum from Freed's lower lip. "Yeah, it affects me. Just feel."

At that, Freed felt those leather pants rub against him. He could feel the massiveness of something hard in there. He gasped and looked up into those blue eyes.

"You're…"

"Hard as a fucking rock," Laxus nodded with a sly smile. "Congrats, Greenie. You've made me insanely aroused."

"I have?"

"Yep. Sometimes, rarely, I've felt a little bit of arousal when I'm with a client, really hurting them, listening to them sob and scream. It's not really sexual arousal, though. More like an adrenalin rush."

"And this is?" Freed asked in astonishment.

"Hell if I know," Laxus mumbled. "I just have a feeling, if you keep this up, I'll be the one who can't make it until morning."

Freed remembered what Laxus had said earlier that night. Men and women normally did not make Laxus aroused. _He did_, though. He smiled weakly. It was like the ultimate compliment, to know he was pleasuring this thunder god.

"Do you want to keep going?" Freed asked him.

"Huh?" Laxus was not sure how Freed would react to this news, but he did not expect him to just brush it aside and continue. "Uh, only if you want it."

"I … y-yes. Can it be the butt plug now?"

"It can be anything you want, other than my tongue. I don't do that shit."

"I want to feel what you bought for me."

"Hey! I just happened to get it, understand."

Freed smiled at that gruffness. "Understood, master!"

"Oh?" Laxus asked drolly. "Is it _master_ now?"

"Oh! Should it be _sir_?"

"It can be whatever the hell you want."

"I think … um … maybe I like master."

Laxus took the riding crop and lifted Freed's chin with it. "Is that what my little slave wants?" he asked softly, sadistically, but those electric blue eyes were gentle with amusement.

"If it pleases you, master."

Laxus chuckled, and pink colored his cheeks. "Not fucking fair!"

**End of Chapter 6**

* * *

_A/N: Laxus' request for how Freed should approve or disapprove was inspired by "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty" by Anne Rice.  
_

_"Écriture" is the name of Freed's magic in canon._


	7. Sparks Inside

_A/N: The item described in this chapter is based upon the Prostata Milking Orgasmo 300. (Don't you love the name!) For a picture, see this website:  
**goo. gl/Aej7U8** (remove spaces)  
_

_BondageBox and Wasteland are real websites and not meant for anyone under legal age. Seriously! Hardcore shit there! I do not promote or represent either website.  
_

* * *

Chapter 7

**Sparks Inside**

Freed watched with interest as Laxus connected cords to the black butt plug, as well as attaching metal clasps to six disk-shaped pads. It looked complicated, with clamps and cords all over the bed like a sci-fi experiment.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," was all Laxus said.

"I … I see," he muttered. He guessed it was a client, so he did not want to ask more.

"If you really don't like it, we can stop," Laxus assured him. Then he looked up with a sparkle in his eyes. "But I think you'll love it."

Freed was happy that Laxus wanted to please him, but he still felt worried about this strange form of sexual pleasure. "Is it safe?"

"Even if I turn it to the highest setting, it won't kill you. Remember, these things were originally designed for medicinal use. Now, lie back. It took longer to set up than I thought, so I'm going to prep you again." He walked over to where he had removed the latex gloves.

"Why gloves?" Freed asked.

"I'm touching your ass. Do you think I want your shit under my fingernails?"

"O-oh," he stuttered, feeling embarrassed for asking.

"It's just a safety precaution," Laxus explained as he drizzled lube onto the glove's fingers. "If I were to accidentally scratch you inside, it could get infected. If I have a hangnail, which I do right now, it could get germs in the wound, and my whole finger would swell up. This is just safer and cleaner."

"I get it," he whispered. Again, Laxus knew so much, whereas he had never had someone else touch his genitals before.

Laxus' free hand stroked back Freed's hair. "Relax," he said gently.

Freed felt a finger squeeze in. Again, he flinched at first, but the stroking on his head and the soothing gaze in Laxus' eyes calmed him.

"Very good," Laxus praised. "More?"

"Yes … um, if it pleases you, master."

"It does," he said. "More than I like to admit."

Freed look up in surprise, but just then a second finger wiggled in, stretching with just a little pain.

"Relax into it. Loosen up. Just relax and let me do the work."

Freed leaned back, breathing through the discomfort. He felt cold liquid as Laxus applied more lube. Then slowly, being gentle, Laxus began to slide his fingers back and forth.

"Ah … ahhhhhh!" Freed cried out, arching at the pleasure.

"Yes, you're gonna love this," Laxus chuckled.

"I'm … oh God … hurt me. Somehow. Please!" Freed screamed as he felt the beginnings of a surging sensation.

Laxus yanked Freed's legs apart with his free hand and bit deeply into the inner thigh. Freed screamed at the pain, and the sensation of needing to ejaculate faded.

"Ooh, that's gonna leave a bruise. Sorry about that."

"No," Freed panted. "It worked."

"Pain helps, huh?" Laxus asked with intense amusement.

"It stops it," Freed nodded.

"Normally for masochists, pain makes it more intense."

"It is intense. Too intense. It backfires and makes me stop feeling like I have to come fast."

"Masturbated a lot as a kid, huh?"

Freed blushed and looked aside. "Probably no more than normal boys," he mumbled.

"I bet you whacked off three times a day."

"N-no! Well, not _every_ day."

"Once a day?"

"Um … maybe … once or twice?"

"Every fucking day? Damn! Do you know how often I jerked off? Take a guess."

"I … I dunno."

"Guess!" he barked.

Freed gulped hard. "Every other day?"

"You wish! In high school, probably once a week, if even that often. After high school, way less than that. I once went a year and didn't need it. It's been a lot more lately, though," he said casually as he added a third finger. Freed jolted under him with a shuddering cry. "Maybe three months ago, the need really began to increase. I started to watch a lot more porn to take care of things. Now, maybe twice a week I'm stroking off to BondageBox and Wasteland-dot-com. I'm not sure why it's increasing. After tonight, I might end up as horny as you. Twice a day! Shit! You really are one perverted rich boy."

Freed felt ashamed by the humiliation of his insults … and he loved it! "I … I don't do it that often nowadays," he protested.

"When was your last time?"

Freed hesitated on telling him, blushing fiercely and looking aside.

"Tell me!" Laxus twisted his fingers inside, getting Freed to cry out.

"I-I did before … before coming to the sh-show," he confessed.

"Really now? Do you always do that?"

"I … y-yes."

"And I bet you would have whacked off after the show tonight, too. Am I right?"

"I … I don't come to the club all the time."

"I know how often you come, _Greenie_. I see you in the audience."

Freed gasped softly. "You do? You've seen me?"

"You're avoiding the issue." Laxus leaned in close, almost nose to nose. "How often do you masturbate?"

Freed shuddered as he felt like he was being interrogated. "N-normally … I don't know. Mornings, in the shower. Sometimes … if my roommate is watching porn, we'll watch together, although he likes stuff I don't. Or if he's out, I watch my stuff on the internet."

"Gay porn?"

"Y-yes."

"BDSM?"

Freed cringed down in shame. "Y-yes."

"Every night?"

"Not every. Well, it's been more since I … I…" His words faded away.

"Since when?"

He bit his lower lip. "Since … since I saw you. At the club. I went just to see what it was like. I was gonna leave after the first dancer, but then … then you came out."

"Did you fantasize over me?"

Freed choked on a word.

"Tell me!" Laxus shouted, and he thrust his fingers in harder.

"Y-yes!" he cried out.

Laxus backed his fingers away to ease off the pain, and he stroked gently, soothing away the punishment with rewarding pleasure. "What did you think about?" He watched with amusement as Freed squirmed and looked ashamed. "Tell me. What did I do to you in your fantasies?"

"Th-this."

"Fingering you?"

"Y-yes."

"What else? What did you dream about while you stroked off to me?"

Freed choked on his words. "I … I wanted … t-to … s-s-suck … y-you."

"Tell me clearly."

Freed sniffled at the humiliation of admitting this to the man who had dominated his most arousing fantasies. "I want … to suck on … y-you."

Laxus licked his lips. "Do you really want that?"

"Yes," he whimpered.

Laxus rubbed up against Freed's body, letting the bulge in his pants press against the man's thigh. "Do you want _this_ in your mouth?"

"Yes!" he groaned hungrily.

Laxus laughed and shook his head. "Damn, I'm almost tempted to let you."

"Please!"

"How many blow jobs have you given?"

Freed opened his mouth, squawked out something, and then looked aside in shame. "None," he sighed. He was horrifically unprepared for any of this, no experience at all.

"Good." Laxus leaned over and kissed Freed's forehead. "I want to save at least one _first_ for next time."

"Next time?" Freed gasped, looking up hopefully. Did Laxus want this again?

"Unless you don't like this."

"I … I do so far."

"We've hardly begun. So, in your prolific masturbation sessions, did you ever finger yourself back here?" Laxus gave another deep thrust of his fingers.

"I … y-yes. Sometimes."

"Do you know how to reach … here?"

The fingers curled, and Freed felt a touch that sent his whole body jumping. "No! Oh God!"

Again, Laxus grabbed his cock, and at the same time he leaned over and bit Freed hard on the nipple. The pain soothed away the neediness, forcing his focus away from the trembling in his cock.

"Pain to calm you down, and you want this until sunrise. Shit, you really are something," Laxus chuckled slyly. "How about we give this thing a shot?"

He removed his fingers and pulled the glove off inside-out. He tossed it to the side and took up the black butt plug. It already had electrodes attached to it.

"Tell me if it's okay," Laxus said, slathering the whole plug with copious lube. He pressed the narrow tip against Freed's asshole, and slowly he eased it in. Freed went through all the relaxing and breathing he had just done as he was slowly spread open. The plug filled him, and just as he began to really hurt, suddenly it slipped into a divot. "Very good. That's the worst of it. Congrats on your first time being penetrated by an inanimate object."

Freed blushed and looked away with a bashful pout.

"Now, let me put these on while you adjust to the size."

He placed the round pads onto Freed's nipples, then two more on his inner thighs, and two on the base of his penis. He then used the cock ring to hold the pads in place, wrapping the stretchy ring around the penis and balls.

"We'll start low." Laxus took the controller box and sat back to watch the show. He turned the power onto the absolute lowest setting.

Freed jolted as something tingled. His nipples, his inner thighs, his cock, and deep inside were all stimulated at the same time. Once the surprise faded, he let out a long, groaning moan of pleasure.

"I knew you'd like it," Laxus smirked. "But, I don't think I like your freedom. You could pull those off."

He turned to power back off, walked away to fetch Freed's belt, and brought it back over to the bed. He took the thin wrists, trained for fencing, and yanked them over Freed's head. He wrapped both wrists with the belt and tied him up to the headboard.

"Much better." Laxus gazed down at his bound and helpless victim. "Mmm, yes. Shit, you really do somehow make me aroused. Looking like this, I could fuck you."

Freed squirmed at the thought of it. To be taken and ravaged by this man … God, he wanted that!

"Ready for more?"

Freed was ready for anything!

Laxus took the controller and turned it on again. Electricity flowed into Freed's body in wavering pulses. They jolted him slowly at first, and inside, it truly felt like something was moving within, pounding, rippling through his innards. His cock was getting waves of pleasure, and his nipples almost stung with the sharp tingles.

"More," Freed shuddered.

"Say please," Laxus taunted.

"Please, master."

He increased the voltage just a little and watched with fascination. Freed pulled at the belt around his wrists and groaned in pleasurable discomfort. He began to squirm, and he almost closed up his legs. Laxus pressed the pale, slender thighs back apart.

"Don't do that. If you press the connectors together, that's not good."

"But it's … it's … _nnnngh!_"

"Intense, I know," Laxus said coolly. "Do you need to be tied down more?" Laxus glanced around the room. "Damn. Just my belt. You need some good rope for next time."

"N-Next time?" Freed panted. He said it again. _Next time!_

"Shut up." Laxus yanked his belt out from his pant loops and wrapped just one thigh, threading the belt through the buckle. He then knelt by the bed frame and tied the belt to the metal bar as good as he could. It was not the best way to bind someone, but it would work for a while. "Is that comfortable?"

"No, but it's not painful."

"Then it's perfect. Now, beg for more. Beg, bitch!" he smiled in amusement.

Freed shuddered at the harshness that somehow sounded so gentle. "If it pleases you, master, I want more. Please! Please, master! May I have more? It's so good. Master makes me feel so good."

Laxus flinched as those words sent a shock right down his own arousal. He turned up the knobs on the controller, and as Freed moaned without any restraint, Laxus reached down and deftly rubbed himself through his leather pants.

This was such a different experience for a man like Laxus. Growing up, he had never really found pleasure in things he knew should be erotic. Normal online pornography looked boring, nothing but repetitiously thrusting anatomy, and the gasps from the ladies were obviously fake. It annoyed him more than aroused him. Finding a girlfriend was not easy for a boy with a scar on his face. Still, he somehow managed to date a few girls in school. Although they were fun, and he got plenty of pleasure with them, he constantly worried that his strength might hurt them. Maybe it was due to what he saw his mother go through with his bastard father, but Laxus strongly felt he should not hurt a girl.

One day, when he was a senior in high school, he got an offer. A teacher named Mr. Jose Porla took notice of this large, fierce student with a dominant gaze. He negotiated to raise Laxus' grade for a _favor_. Laxus saw the aging instructor as purely disgusting, but he needed to pass the class. He agreed to hit the man, right there in the classroom, after school, the door shut and locked, with Jose spread on top of his own wide desk, pants dropped to his ankles. The only trick was, Jose had to honestly say he never had a student to _touch_ him. Instead, Laxus used a wooden ruler to spank the teacher's ass until he came, right there, cum splattered on his desk. Laxus worried that he might have honestly hurt his own teacher, but Jose kept insisting, a student could not _touch_ him. He took care of the cleanup himself and let Laxus go with a warning not to tell anyone about what happened, or he would flunk the class for sure. Laxus got a higher grade, and he realized something that day.

He liked to hurt people.

He got a similar offer during his first job, working as an electrician. The foreman cautiously flirted for weeks, and finally Laxus cut to the chase by asking directly what this man wanted. It was a simple arrangement. Once a month, while the man's wife was away at a church meeting, young Laxus would come over and punish the foreman using this same technique as now: erotic electrostimulation. He did not have to touch the man at all, just stand there, look dominating, insult him, humiliate him, and crank up the controller box until the man reached an orgasm. This arrangement lasted a year, making him quite a bit of money. The foreman introduced him to other like-minded men, each who had a masochistic need that Laxus blandly fulfilled.

He somehow moved up in the world of BDSM, learning tricks and techniques with each new client. He realized he could use his skill in dancing to make way more money than as an electrician. The South Pole Club opened a whole new clientèle. He hated all of them. He used them, abused them, left them, and despised each one of them. However, he felt himself _needing_ that sense of dominance, and he found pleasure in imagining his bastard father, how much he wanted to torment that asshole, and discovering the depth of pain he could inflict with men who paid him to go further and deeper into the abyss of painplay.

Someone once scolded him about the proper duties of a Dominant. 'Fuck that,' he thought. He had no emotional attachment to any of these clients. They paid him, and he did what they paid for. No more. He didn't bring the supplies, he didn't deal with aftercare, and he didn't care if the men refused to call back on him after being used and discarded so heartlessly. On the contrary, many of those old geezers liked the fact that Laxus treated them like disgusting shit.

He eventually realized that he simply did not care about sex. He hated those men, and he had not really enjoyed dating women, always feeling like he had to be careful around them. He figured he was the sort of person who just did not like or want sex.

Until now.

He briefly wondered, if he had messed around with boys as a teen, rather than ruining himself with old men, would this have happened? Would he have realized his sexuality earlier? What even was this? Bisexual? Pansexual? He hated labeling himself as anything. He just knew one thing:

He was seriously aroused around this green-haired man.

He turned the controller up a little more, and as the taut body arched with the added shocking pleasure, Laxus felt his cock aching.

Suddenly, he turned the power completely off. Freed sank a bit, panting rapidly, and finally opened his eyes in confusion.

"Don't you fucking move," Laxus said sharply. "I need to piss."

He set the controller down on the mattress and left to the restroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Immediately, he yanked his leather pants to his knees, grabbed his cock, and began to pump it into his hand.

This young man, someone still in university, a pretty rich boy with green hair and impeccable taste in clothes, _this man_ was driving Laxus insane. He slammed a hand against the wall as he stared down at his cock and stroked faster, needing this pressure to be relieved.

How was it that this man he had never spoken to before tonight could mess him up this potently? Was it because of his age? His looks? Was it mental, not thinking of Freed as a _client_, but as a…

As what?

What was he? Not a client. Not a boyfriend. Sure as hell not a lover. He was not even a _friend_. So what was he?

Laxus closed his eyes in frustration by all these random questions, but all he could see in his imagination was Freed naked on the bed, his long and vibrantly green hair tussled, eyes moist and mouth parted as he breathed hard, his slender but muscular body twisting with pleasure. He had never fantasized about men before. Or about women, for that matter. Why did that man's body come to mind so easily now? What was it with Freed that messed up Laxus' mind so much?

_"Will you train my body?"_

"_If it pleases you, sir, I need more."_

"_I'm … oh God … hurt me. Somehow. Please!"_

_"It's so good. Master makes me feel so good."_

"Fuck!"

Laxus growled and gritted his teeth as he came, catching it with toilet paper. It was definitely the fastest masturbation he had ever experienced, because he had someone he could actually visualize. That never happened before. He had concepts he would think about, or videos of people being tormented erotically, but never a fantasy about someone specifically.

"What the hell is going on?" he whispered, wiping up his cock and tossing the wad of messy tissues into the toilet. "What's wrong with me? What is this?"

His mind provided answers, but he refused to think about it earnestly. In love? Fucking ridiculous! Discovering his inner gayness? If his brain was a person, he would have smacked the shit out of it for thinking something as stupid as that. So, what was this intense lust? He wanted this man, a feeling he never got with the men he beat up. And the weird part was, he did not want to hurt this man, not to the point of being cruel, at least. He wanted to help him, and that happened to involve letting Freed experience pain.

"L-Laxus!" Freed cried out frantically.

He yanked his pants back up and ran out without even flushing the toilet. Freed was squirming on the bed.

"What the hell?" Laxus grumbled. He found the controller with the dial cranked up high. He quickly turned it down. "How the hell did that happen? You're still tied up!"

"I … wanted more," Freed panted, slowly recovering. "You were taking a while."

Laxus blushed. Even if he came fast, it had still taken a couple of minutes. "How did you turn it on?"

Freed looked ashamed. "Um … my foot."

"You used your _foot_?" Laxus cried out, looking at the leg that he had not been able to tie down.

"I wanted it, but then I couldn't turn it off, and when I tried, my thigh jolted, and my toes slipped, and it turned up even higher."

A hand suddenly came at Freed, and he cringed. Instead of a strike to the face, his green hair was yanked, pulling him up by the neck.

"Do you think that's funny? I told you not to move. Apparently, I have a little slave who can't obey one goddamn simple order."

"I … I'm sorry," Freed shivered. He cringed and looked up, awaiting punishment, secretly eager for it.

"You think you want to be punished, don't you?" Laxus said in wry amusement.

"I … _No_. No, I … I wasn't thinking that."

"You're lying to your master now."

Laxus yanked the belts off Freed's thigh and wrists. They were a little pink, but not marked up. He ordered Freed to flip, and he helped him to lie down with the electrodes under his body. He squirmed uncomfortably, especially with his erection so stiff but being smashed down into the bed.

"Disobeying, lying: you really do need to be trained."

He heard Laxus pick something up. A few seconds later, his ass was smacked by the riding crop. Freed gave a soft cry that was muted into the pillows.

"Did you like it?" asked Laxus. When Freed said nothing, the blond whipped the crop across his ass again, eliciting another high yelp. "Be honest now."

"I … um…"

Laxus yanked Freed's long hair, pulling his face off the pillows. "Enunciate, bitch!"

"Y-yes," he cried out, cringing from the hair pulling. "I did, master. A lot. But it was too much and you weren't here, and I wanted you to be here. I want you … t-to watch me."

"Why?"

"B-because … I want to … to please m-master."

"Dammit," he whispered, releasing Freed's hair and letting his face flop back down into the soft pillows. He wondered how long his little relief session would last him before this man made him painfully aroused again. "How about this?"

He turned on only the power for the butt plug. Freed tensed up, and his hips lifted at the pleasure. Laxus reached down and palmed the plug in tighter.

"Ahhhhh!" Freed shuddered.

"Is that good? You want to please me, right?" Laxus suddenly gave him an open-handed spank right over the butt plug. Freed screamed into the pillow.

"No! Please, don't do that!"

"I don't obey you, little slave. You obey me. You follow my orders. You don't do something when I tell you not to. If I say _don't move_, you don't move. If I say _don't come_, you sure as hell are not allowed to come."

"No … I'm … L-Laxus!"

"I'm _master_ now, got it?"

"G-gonna—"

Before he could shout, all the electrodes went to full power. Lying on his chest meant more pressure against his skin, and the round pads pulsed through his nerves far stronger than when he was facing up. His body was jolted. Intensely painful and yet pleasurable tingles burned his nerves and made his muscles contract so tightly, the need to come was crushed. Then, as quickly as it started, the jolting vanished, and Freed felt like he had fallen into a hole of dark, sinful pleasures.

"That seems to work well," Laxus said in amusement.

"Oh God, that was wonderful," Freed shivered.

Laxus took his shoulder and helped Freed to turn back around. He readjusted some of the electrodes that shifted, and he untangled some wires. Freed still trembled, but he leaned into Laxus for moral support. Normally, when a client made a move of comfort like this, Laxus shoved them aside in disgust. This time, he cradled Freed, stroking back the sweaty green hair.

"We'll play slowly," he promised. "We have until morning. Just little bits at a time. I wanna see you last another—" He glanced at the clock. "—three hours to go. Think you can hold out that long?"

"I … want to." Those weary but lustful eyes turned up to him. "If it pleases you, master."

Laxus shifted his thighs again. This was going to be a torturous night for them both.

**End of Chapter 7**


	8. Thunderstorm Fading

_A/N: Many people have suggested a "theme song" this fanfic, or what song Laxus strip dances to. AC/DC "Thunderstruck" is one I imagine Laxus probably dances to. "God of Thunder" by KISS is another Laxus would probably appreciate. Tell me what songs you like.  
_

* * *

Chapter 8

**Thunderstorm Fading  
**

Freed lost track of time. It was like the electricity that coursed through him, and the touches that prickled his skin, warped time and space, making the night last an eternity, and yet suddenly those hours were coming to an end.

"Hold out. Endure it."

"I can't!"

"You will. Tighten your abdominal muscles. Hold back the need."

"Please, let me come."

"No."

"Please … master."

"Not yet, my slave. We'll wait until sunrise. This is training. Just endure it."

Minutes and hours blended with a glaze of pleasure and fatigue. During one of their many breaks, Freed panted and gazed up at the ceiling, enjoying a respite from the electrical pleasure. Laxus had left his side once more, striding over to the window, and those huge hands threw open the heavy curtains. Freed's eyes squinted. The real world was out there, and he did not want to face that yet. He wanted this fantasy night to last forever.

"Dawn is coming," Laxus said, sounding melancholy. He watched the glow outside getting brighter and brighter.

Freed felt exhausted, aching, and desperate. "Laxus," he moaned. "Please."

"A little longer."

There were only a few more minutes until sunrise. Freed felt like giving up already, but Laxus was right there, holding him again. His hand reached down, stroking, but never enough. Freed craved to end this torture. Suddenly, Laxus yanked all of the electrodes off of Freed's sweaty body and took off the cock ring.

"Wait!" Freed cried out.

"On your feet. Come here."

He forced the weary man to the massive window overlooking the city and pressed him up against the cold pane of glass. It was bright now. Squinting, Freed could see cars below. Morning traffic had begun.

"Maybe they can see you," Laxus whispered into his ear. "Naked, sweaty, a total mess."

Freed shuddered. He was slammed up against the window. They might see! They might know he was up there, a perverted masochist with his strip dancing lover.

Softly, tenderly, Laxus gave a different sort of order. "Watch the sunrise with me, Freed."

Having his name whispered in such a tender way made Freed tremble. He put his hands on the glass to hold himself up as Laxus continued to fondle his balls, giving occasional strokes up the shaft, then back down. Freed tensed, and he felt the plug still in his ass.

"Please," he begged in a shiver.

"Tell me when you see the sun come up."

"It's bright already," Freed groaned. The horizon was burning, but the sun had not yet peaked over.

Laxus nipped along his ear as his hand kept stroking placidly. "As soon as the sun is up, I'll let you come. You're not allowed to before then."

Freed clawed at the glass. Laxus' hand began to stroke him faster. He glanced down and saw his precum streaking the glass in wet smears.

"Oh God," Freed groaned, shuddering with pleasure.

"You're so close," Laxus breathed, and he lapped his tongue around the shell of Freed's ear. "Four hours! You're really amazing."

"Please," Freed huffed in exhaustion. "Please." It was all he could say.

Laxus laid his head on Freed's shoulder so their faces were together as they gazed out the window. Finally, "Sun's up," he noted as the first stream of gold crested the distant horizon. "Ready?"

Although Freed was panting and shaking with fatigue, he looked over to Laxus. "You first."

Laxus raised an eyebrow.

"You've been hard all night." Freed arched his ass back to rub against Laxus' arousal hidden away in those tight leather pants. "I … I want you to come first. I want it on my face. I … I want to jerk myself off while you spray it on my face."

"Shit," Laxus whispered breathlessly, but then his eyes glared hard. "No!"

Freed gasped, shocked at being denied his one earnest request.

"I don't like the idea of you finishing yourself off. It'd be like I couldn't finish my job. I'll do it. Now, lie down."

Freed walked back to the bed and obediently reclined on the pillows. Laxus undid the top button of his leather pants and yanked his zipper down. Freed had seen him do this much for the audience in his finale dance move, teasing by showing only the root of his cock. This time, he pulled out the whole thing, thick and flushed with arousal, finally springing free after being confined for so long. Freed caught his breath. Something that huge would really hurt … and Freed liked the idea of that!

Laxus straddled over Freed's torso. One hand reached back and stroked Freed's erection. The other hand wrapped around that massive cock and gave himself a full stroke. Freed clenched up like Laxus had instructed just to keep from coming at the mere sight of Laxus stroking himself.

"Good boy," Laxus smiled. "But you can come at any time."

"I want t- … to hold off," Freed said between gasps. "I want … s-same time."

"I can't guarantee that. I have no clue when I'll come, and you're damn close."

"I wanna hold back," he insisted. "I'll … I'll try to hold myself back. Just don't stop. Keep touching me. Please! Like this. Both. Together. Like … _nnngh_ … this!"

Laxus hissed at the moaning demands. "I won't bother taking my time, then. I've been hard for a while. I jerked off in the bathroom once already," he admitted. "Seeing you like this, I need to again. Desperately!"

Freed smiled with intense happiness. Then that meant Laxus really had enjoyed this night.

Laxus stroked himself without delicacy, letting his wrist fly to bring himself close as quickly as possible. Watching that, Freed felt something like a surge, but he tightened up, holding back.

"L-Laxus," he cried out.

"Moan for me. Cry out. Scream!" Laxus reached over, plugged a cord back into the butt plug, and turned the e-stim up to the level where he had noticed that Freed enjoyed the most, without it being up so high as to numb him from coming.

Freed arched up, feeling himself burning up and tingling inside, pulsing waves flowing through him, and suddenly everything was rushing forward.

"L-Laxus! Oh … God … oh!"

"Ffffuck!" Laxus groaned. "I wanna hear you, Freed."

His body twisted, part of him wanting to finally come after four hours of teasing, part dreading that coming meant this fantasy would end. That fear was a far bigger incentive not to come at all.

"Do you want my hand more?" Laxus panted, and he grabbed Freed's dripping cock. "You've been leaking so much all night, I wonder if you have anything left in your balls."

Freed tensed at the sweetly dirty talk.

"You're not too numb, are you?"

"Please," he whispered.

"Too quiet. Moan for me."

"L-Laxus!"

"Shit … so close. More! Be louder."

"No! Gonna … I'm gonna…"

"Scream, bitch!" Laxus suddenly slapped Freed on the thigh.

At the painful strike, Freed cried out and felt himself go. That pumping hand gave no mercy at the end, breaking his will and making him come apart completely. Just before Freed had a chance to feel disappointed that he came first, Laxus' face changed, his teeth bared tensely, and Freed heard him chanting.

"Shit, fuck, shit, shit, fuuuuck!"

He watched the first white arc of liquid shoot out with such power, it flew past his face, landing on his forehead and green hair. Then Laxus changed his angle a little, watching and letting the next jolt cover Freed, streaking his cheek and across his mouth. Freed tasted the bitterness drip past his lips.

Laxus grinned tensely as he held his cock over Freed's face, letting more spill out until it covered the swordsman's skin. He smiled down at the mess, milking out everything, slathering it onto the flushed cheeks. He playfully slapped Freed's cheeks with his cock, and the green-haired man moaned to feel that. Then Laxus held his shrinking cock to wipe himself clean on Freed's face. Freed felt that soft skin, the wetness, and he savored the taste dripping into his mouth.

"Not bad," Laxus said in praise as he turned off the electrical stimulator. He climbed off and knelt beside Freed. "You actually held back. I'm honestly impressed." Then he took one finger and drew a pattern in the milky fluid covering Freed's face. "I've … I've never done this with someone who wasn't a client. Hell, I've never let myself come for a client at all, or … or for anyone."

Freed arched an eyebrow. "I'm your first?"

Laxus laughed brusquely but still had a faint blush. "Shit, I guess so. Same with you?"

"Yeah," Freed said faintly. "I … I mean, I've dated, but … not this. Never something like this."

Laxus stroked back the green hair. "Were you ever kissed before tonight?"

Freed blushed and looked aside. "A few times."

"Good. I don't want to feel like I'm stealing everything away from you all at once."

Laxus suddenly leaned over. Freed's eyes widened as he felt rough lips meet his in a domineering kiss. There was no pretext of giving him a drink this time. It was a pure kiss, and it was … messy!

Laxus pulled back and chuckled softly. "You taste like shitty cum."

"It's your cum," Freed shot back. "Not my fault if it's shitty."

Laxus laughed that this man, a raging masochist, was still witty and could talk back. He brought forward the hand he had used to stroke off Freed. "Here, taste this."

He thrust a moist finger into Freed's mouth. Those teary eyes widened, then tensed up, trying to shake his head at the bitterness. Laxus chuckled sadistically, grabbed a handful of hair, and gave it just enough of a yank to show he was serious.

"Clean it up, Greenie."

Freed's gazed up, but he obeyed, sucking on the finger, then licking the other fingers, cleaning up the mess.

"Good job," Laxus praised softly, stroking the hair to ease the pain. "Damn. Why do you have to be a hot, young guy?"

Freed looked up, wondering why he would say something like that. Then he saw the wistfulness in Laxus' face. "Would it be easier if I was a woman?"

"Not really. Same problem, just different plumbing."

"Problem?" he asked worriedly.

"Strippers aren't supposed to get attached."

"That's to clients," Freed pointed out.

Laxus froze in surprise, and then laughed silently to himself. "I guess that's true. You're not a client."

"What am I?"

Laxus took the edge of the bed sheet and wiped up Freed's messy face. "A friend?" he guessed.

"With benefits?" Freed teased.

Laxus chuckled at that cockiness. "Maybe more."

Freed's playfulness turned to shock. "W-wait. More … than friends?"

"_Maybe_," he emphasized sternly, but Laxus began to blush again. "I … wouldn't mind."

"T-to have … _more_?"

Electric blue eyes gazed down at him. "To have you."

Freed caught his breath. "Laxus!" he whispered in awe.

"Do you mind?"

"No!"

"I'm a stripper," Laxus warned. "It's my job. I'm not quitting it. It's the only way I can get new clients, men I can beat up, do things that I wouldn't want to do with you."

"Wouldn't want?"

"Seriously, do you repeat everything I say?" he snapped in irritation.

"What don't you want to do with me?" Freed demanded.

Laxus stroked back the green hair. "Hurt you. Treat you like shit. Beat you up. I don't want that."

Freed's eyes softened. "What _do_ you want?" he asked hopefully.

Laxus smiled, and he showed a little bit of hidden tenderness deep down inside. "Who knows?" he whispered, refusing to give in to that soft side, although his fingers still stroked through Freed's lengthy hair, playing with it, watching the green shifting colors in the light. "Do you feel like showering? I like to shower right afterward. I hate the way cum feels when it dries."

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I can stand on my own yet."

"I'll help to hold you up."

Freed caught his breath. "You mean, shower together?"

"That's what I meant. You can scrub my back." He looked aside gruffly. "Unless you don't wanna."

"I do!" Freed cried out. "That is … if it pleases you, master."

Laxus chuckled and stroked his hair. "Master/slave time is over. I'm just Laxus now."

He may say that, but to Freed, this man would always be part thunder god!

* * *

After a soothing shower, they returned to the bed. Laxus laid down, and at a silent gesture, Freed laid next to him, curling into that large, tattooed body. He looked at the skin marked with scars, and the ink that tried to hide the scars from view. He lightly touched one, but then worried if perhaps the skin was sensitive. Laxus did not move, though. Freed glanced down at the puckered skin and wondered if, instead of sensitive, Laxus had lost some sensation in the areas with all the scars. The idea that it was Laxus' father who did this to his own son saddened Freed, and he kissed one of the scars.

"I can't feel directly on top of them," Laxus said quietly. "Just to the side, it's super sensitive. Not painful, just easy to feel." He glanced down with a small smile. "I can't feel your lips when you do that, but your nose tickles."

"Sorry," he whispered.

"I didn't say to stop. I meant to kiss beside the scar, not on top. That way I can feel it. I like to feel your lips."

Freed smiled coyly, leaned over, and placed his lips beside one of the scars. He felt a ripple through Laxus' muscles and guessed it must have tickled also.

"Do you need to sleep?" asked Laxus.

"It's morning. When do we need to check out?"

"Eleven o'clock. It's already seven. Either we leave now, or we sleep for a few hours."

Freed curled closer into the large body. "I don't want to leave yet."

A large hand stroked his head. "Yeah, me neither. I'll set the alarm for ten."

Laxus messed with the hotel's clock alarm, then rolled back into the bed and wrapped his body around Freed's.

"If I snore, hit my nose," Laxus muttered. In under a minute, his body slumped, and his breathing went heavy.

Freed felt those breaths on the back of his neck. A few light snores came out, but they made him smile. It seemed the thunder god had a cute side.

* * *

Freed was unsure when he fell asleep, but he jolted out of a dream when the alarm clock clicked on. Laxus' arms clutched tightly around him. He tried to move away, hoping to turn off the alarm, but Laxus squeezed tighter.

"Don't go yet," he mumbled.

Freed glanced around, but it looked like Laxus was still asleep.

"Stay here. Don't go," he muttered.

Was he talking in his sleep? It was rather cute.

However, less than a minute later, Laxus woke and blinked out his sleepy eyes. He saw Freed gazing at him, and he jolted back.

"What the … oh. Last night. Right."

"Good morning," Freed smiled.

"Heh! I've never slept with someone, not since I was a child sleeping with my mother. Did I snore?"

"Not really. We, um … we should turn off that alarm."

Laxus rolled over and hit the alarm clock with a fist. Then he stayed on his back staring at the ceiling.

"Are you feeling all right?" he finally asked Freed.

Freed sat up and stretched out his arms. "Seems so." He began to stand, but his legs almost gave out. "Ooooor maybe not."

"Thighs?"

"Yeah. They burn."

"That's to be expected. Hey, you slept naked."

"So did you," Freed pointed out.

"I'm used to it. Weren't you cold?"

Freed blushed. "No." He had actually felt a little too warm with Laxus wrapped around him.

"Look, about your clothes, I'll need to return the jeans to work. They're costume clothes. I … um … I got you this to wear." Laxus got out of bed and walked over to the bag he had bought the night before.

Freed watched with a prurient smile at the way the morning sunlight slanted through the window and lit up Laxus' naked body, from muscular shoulders, firm buttocks that had dimples on the cheeks, a cock hanging soft but still impressive even flaccid, and those thighs that looked like they could crush something. That body had been right up against him all night. He almost wished he had not slept for a single minute so he could have felt Laxus holding him these past two hours.

"I know it's not your thing, but it's all they had at the sex shop." He pulled out a pair of leather pants and a male thong. Freed covered his mouth and laughed. "Hey! I said it was all they had," Laxus snapped.

"It's fine, just … leather pants … like yours." He grinned with excitement, feeling warm to have an article of clothing picked out by the man he liked.

"Well, when I gave them to you last night, I had thought maybe you could just drop them off on your next visit, but you said you weren't returning to the South Pole Club, so I realized I needed to get you something else to wear. It was my fault for not paying attention to you during that lap dance. We didn't have time to have the maids do your laundry, so you need to wear something to drive home."

"Home," Freed said softly. He had to leave this world of fantasy and return to his dorm room, to university and fencing matches, his roommate, his annoying siblings, the family who only barely tolerated the fact that their eldest son was gay, back to _real life_! It was a depressing thought.

Laxus saw the look on his face. He pulled Freed over in bed and wrapped him up into a warm embrace. "It'll be okay. We can have more nights like this, if you want."

"Promise?" Freed asked uncertainly.

Laxus liked the silkiness of this man's green hair on his cheek. "Promise. Get your phone."

Freed got his cellphone, and Laxus got his number.

"Can't I have yours?" Freed asked.

"I warned you, I'm really careful about letting other people know stuff about me. Something like my cellphone, you don't get info like that until the third date."

Freed's eyes sparkled. _Date?_

"I have your number. I'll give you a call. It won't be right away, though. Don't be some idiot pining away waiting for the phone to ring. I have work, ya know. And you have school. When is your next fencing tournament?"

Freed felt his heart race with excitement. Could they make that into another date? Dating? Dating _Laxus_? Were they dating now? "I-it's a week before Halloween. But … that isn't for a month!"

"That's plenty of time for you to recover from this. But no one else touches you, got it?"

"N-No! Of course not!"

"You can look, but don't touch."

"I only look at you," he swore. "Even at the club, you were the only one I really watched. No one else compared."

Laxus chuckled and ruffled up his hair. "Then a week before Halloween, I'll give you a call. I wanna see you fight."

"It's a competition, not a fight."

"If you win your tournament, I'll use the e-stim plug again. Now are ya gonna fight to win?"

"Hell yes!" Freed moaned, already wanting that pulsing pleasuring inside of him.

"Good boy. Get into the shower, let the hot water hit your muscles. It'll help."

Freed left to the restroom. The hot water really did feel good on his aching muscles, and he began to understand why Laxus said a month would be enough recovery time. He was going to _hurt_ for the next few days! However, his depression was gone. Already, he looked forward to training extra hard on his swordsmanship so he could show Laxus his strength.

When he stepped out toweling his hair, the hotel was quiet. He looked around, but there was no sign of Laxus. He wondered if maybe he left to get more ice, but the black bag was missing, too. Freed felt his heart racing. He was gone! Like the briefness of a passing thunderstorm, this man had struck him, ravaged him, and rolled on.

"Laxus!" he cried out, just in case he was hiding. Then he saw a note written on hotel parchment and placed on the rumpled blankets.

* * *

_Greenie … Freed,_

_I'm still a man who likes his privacy. There are depths to me I don't like to show to anyone, but especially not to someone I care for. Dammit, but somehow you made a man like me give a shit for a little whelp like you. So, it's best if we leave things like this. I can find my way home by bus._

_I left the butt plug and cock ring for you. Those are yours. Don't you dare use them unless I'm with you, got it? It's part of your "supplies" now, so when I see you again, you better bring them with you or I'll be really upset. I don't buy gifts for my own family on Christmas, let alone someone I don't even know. You better take care of them!_

_If you ever really need to see me, no matter what's the issue, you know where to find me: at the South Pole. Otherwise, await my phone call, but don't you dare act like some damn princess, sighing and moping and shit. You're in university, so study your ass off and work hard on swordfighting. Or competition. Whatever you call it. I don't even know what the hell I'm writing anymore, so…_

_Bye._

– _Your thunder god_

* * *

"My thunder god," Freed whispered, seeing how he had addressed it.

He walked over to the window. The sun was bright in the sky. It looked like any other day, and tomorrow Freed had to go back to classes and studying. Maybe not much had changed, but Freed felt like his life was just dawning, like the morning star rising in the east.

Then a sight caught his eye. In front of the hotel was a bus stop. A city bus had just pulled over to pick up a passenger, and Freed saw a broad built man with blond hair. As the person began to walk up the bus steps, he paused and glanced back. Freed saw Laxus gazing up at him. He placed his hand up against the window pane, wondering if Laxus could even see him way up here. Maybe it was only his imagination when Laxus' clear blue eyes met his, and he nodded faintly, as if telling Freed he would be all right on his own now.

And then he was gone. The bus pulled away. The thunderstorm had rolled over the horizon, leaving Freed refreshed, renewed, and filled with revitalization.

**End of Chapter 8**


	9. Always Greener on the Other Side

Chapter 9

**Always Greener on the Other Side**

Laxus had a leather flogger in his hand. In front of him, stretched out with hands and neck bound in stocks, was some fat piece of flesh. He didn't know the name, and he didn't care. The man was familiar, likely some politician or maybe even an actor. Laxus had no clue, only that he had seen this man's face on TV. Now he was just another client, some sick fuck who wanted the God of Thunder to crash apart his world.

Music blared through the room. Rather than the dance tunes at the club, when Laxus worked a client, his music was darker, ominous, meant to make the person's heart race and instill fear. Fear of him! Obedience! Right then, Metallica's _Ride the Lighting_ was blaring, guitars shredding.

Flash before my eyes.  
Now it's time to die.  
Burning in my brain.  
I can feel the flames.

Normally, this put Laxus in the mood to dole out pain, remembering the past, the pain, the terror, all trust sliced into pieces as his own father hurt him, cut into him with surgical precision, did things to him, experiments that were excruciating, things young Laxus did not understand. Maybe his father's experiments worked. He had been a feeble child, almost died many times from fevers and easily getting injured. His mother had constantly fretted over his health. Now, he never got sick, he was large, muscular, taller than almost everyone else he knew. People around him whispered about steroids. Likely, that was part of it. Maybe more. Laxus had no clue.

Sometimes, he wished it had not worked. If he was still weak and sick all the time, maybe he would have stayed indoors, studied more, focused on school and friends, instead of being an outcast, everyone terrified of him, roaming the streets just to escape his family life, so consumed by anger that things like an education were secondary to his lust for revenge.

He slapped the flogger over the flesh. Lumpy fat jiggled, and the skin darkened with serpentine red marks.

"Sickening!" he muttered.

Just seeing this man was disgusting. No wonder he never got aroused before. He used to think that just the act of hurting someone should be enough to arouse him, so he thought maybe he was asexual, since none of his clients, nor the women he had dated, stirred him. Nobody aroused him!

Now, he had come to know an athletic body, thin and taut muscles, flesh firm and toned with youth and hard work, not saggy and wrinkled like this man. There had never been pleasure in his job before, but now Laxus was intensely revolted.

"Master!" the man groaned.

"You're repulsive," he sneered.

"Yes! Yes, I am, master."

"Shut up!" Laxus cracked the flogger over the flesh. The man groaned in masochistic pleasure, and the sound turned Laxus' stomach.

When Freed had called him master, that desperate whimper had shocked Laxus. Freed said the title as if nobody else in his life would ever be _master_, only Laxus. Only him! He liked that. He liked knowing there was a man who wanted that sort of exclusiveness.

This fat bastard had probably had dozens of doms before hiring Laxus. He certainly had a wide variety of devices, his own sado-maso playroom in his mansion's basement, designed to look like a dungeon, so he was experienced in this sort of perverted play.

"The butt plug, master. You promised. Twenty lashes and I can have it."

Gross. Laxus wanted to vomit. This man's flabby ass stuck out, stripped red from the lashes he had been getting all night. He had made the requirement of twenty lashes because he sincerely hoped the man would not make it that far. Either his arm was swinging too gently, or this man's pain tolerance was incredible.

Laxus set the flogger aside and pulled on latex gloves.

He remembered Freed had asked about using gloves. They were because Laxus never knew if these men has diseases. Of course, they all claimed they were perfectly loyal husbands, and they only needed this pain-play once in a while, a breather from the mundane world, the stress of constantly striving for perfection in their aristocratic empyrean. Under the Thunder God's dominance, they could be reduced to a mere mortal, gross flesh, carnal cravings, and escape from all that pressure. Still, Laxus never knew how many whores these men might have on the side. At least three of his former clients had been reported in the news for scandals with prostitutes, interns, or secretaries.

If only the news knew about the male strip dancer those same men hired to whip and paddle their asses into submission. More than once, Laxus chuckled about how he could write a tell-all story one day and humiliate a third of the politicians in his jurisdiction.

"Master, you're quiet tonight. Are you okay?"

"Shut up," Laxus grumbled.

"You're not insulting me as much, master."

Laxus had the gloves on, but he suddenly grabbed the old man by his graying hair, yanking his head up harshly. "Are you _ordering_ me, bitch?"

"N-no, master."

"Good. Then do me a favor and _never_ call me master again. You are a disgusting, fat, motherfucking sonuvabitch and unworthy of having me as your master."

The man moaned pleasurably at the insult. "Uh, then what should I call you?"

Laxus wondered about that. He only wanted Freed to call him master, and he knew that Freed was the only one he wanted as a slave. These sick fucks were too disgusting to be his slaves. They were pigs, mere fodder, pieces of meat he could hit. However, today he could not keep his mind on the act of taking revenge on his father. His mind kept slipping to green hair.

"Call me son."

The man raised his head and looked back in confusion. "Son?"

"No, never mind." Although that would definitely remind him of his father, if this bastard started to beg for more, then calling him _son_ would be awkward as hell. "Call me Lexus."

"Oh! Like the car? Is that your name?"

"No, idiot," he said coldly.

Laxus grabbed up a butt plug and a bottle of lube. Disgusting cow! He wanted this to be over with already. He wanted to go home, put the whole day out of his mind, and think about that lithe body squirming over twisted sheets. Now, every time he watched porn, Laxus pictured long, green hair sprawled across the bed. Almost every night, Freed haunted him with the memories of him begging weakly and arching up in pleasure.

Laxus looked down. The sweet memories were stirring his pants, but seeing this client, this rich pervert who had to pay money to get this sort of treatment, killed his boner in an instant.

He sneered, "You really are pathetic."

"Yes!" the man groaned.

"Disgusting! Putrid pile of flesh! You couldn't get an nymphomaniac to suck you off."

"Nnnngh! Mas-…"

"Don't fucking call me that! You're not worthy of calling me that. Who would want you as a slave?" Laxus slicked up the plug and rammed it in without any attempt at being gentle.

"Ahhhhh! Mas-… Lexus!"

The name was too close. Shit.

"The vibrator, please, Lexus."

"You are ordering me way the hell too much! Disgusting, greedy fucker!"

Laxus reached to a table with an array of sex toys and picked up a heavy paddle with the word BITCH imprinted on it. He weighed it in his hand, took aim, and slapped it hard over the man's ass. BITCH was left behind amidst bright pink skin.

"You're way below me." _Slap!_ "You're just some needy, pitiful slug." _Smack, smack!_

"Oh God, yes!"

"Fuck your vibrator! I will beat the shit out of you. That shitty cum of yours. Just shit! Disgusting pimple! Pop your white shit out. Sick fucker!"

Laxus was honestly furious. This was not about his father anymore, though. As he paddled the man over and over, he realized he was angry at himself, at this lifestyle, at the sort of man he had grown to become.

Still, he needed this. He needed to hurt these men. It was like needing food or oxygen. As repulsed as he was by them, they were the only ones he could hurt, because he really did not want to hurt Freed like this. He wanted to give him the sort of pain that tingled all through him. He wanted to hear those desperate moans and watch his face as he struggled to hold back from coming. He wanted that man so much, it drove him crazy.

It scared Laxus, and so he held back on giving Freed a call. Just one phone call and he could have that man!

But if he met Freed while feeling this way, he would want more than just doling out pain and watching the effects. He had loved touching Freed, and then at the end, touching himself, both of them together, taking pleasure in feeling that body writhing between his thighs. Something amazing had sparked between them, something sensual, a shared euphoria.

He wanted more!

And part of him feared that desire.

He was still swinging the paddle over and over when he realized the client had cum dripping on the floor. Laxus did not feel any sort of fulfillment. He did his job. He would get a ridiculous amount of money, funds he was saving up so he could search for his father. One day, he might need to pay off police or find one hell of a lawyer when he finally tortured and murdered that bastard.

He had no clue what he would do after that. He wouldn't need these men. He wouldn't need to imagine torturing his father. His quest for revenge would be over. Would he still even be a sadist? Probably, but he doubted the anger issues would still be around.

Maybe he and Freed could settle down somewhere, live a normal life. The guy was apparently wealthy. Laxus could live in luxury. He would not have to work at the strip club anything. He could read more, listen to music, maybe attend opera concerts with Freed. It was a nice thought.

_'What the hell am I even thinking about?'_

These sorts of daydreams scared him. He had never known a _normal_ life. How could he possibly expect to fit in with polite society?

Freed was way above him, a fortunate eldest son born into plutocratic privilege. That was why Laxus liked to bring him down, make this green-haired angel just another mortal. Although he pompously claimed the title of thunder god, Laxus knew how simple and miserable his life really was. He wanted Freed to be at his level, to break those wings and bring him down, make him suffer the pain of mortals, if just for a little while, just enough so Laxus could finally touch this emerald angel.

He focused back on the client. He set the paddle down, pulled the plug out, and put it in a dish to be sterilized later. He never deal with cleanup. When he unlocked the stocks, the man collapsed to the floor, wincing in pain and panting in sexual exhaustion.

"Money," Laxus demanded curtly.

"The butler will have it, as usual, plus a little extra for your silence."

Laxus never asked for hush money, but most of his highest profile clients, particularly politicians, added that in.

The man wiped sweat off his forehead. He was dripping all over his obese body. "Can you help me up, Lexus?" He reached a hand out.

The blond pulled away. Touch that sweat-drenched hand? Sick! "I don't help you. You are an ant before a god, and I don't give a shit about what happens to an insect like you. I'm only here to make you understand: all of your money doesn't change what you are."

"I know," the man groaned, smiling to hear the insults. "Tell me what I am. Tell me!"

"You're a fucking sick bastard who _still _thinks he can order me around." Laxus put his boot lightly on top of the man's penis. "I could crush you easily, like a cockroach, and not even all the money in the world could buy back what I could steal from you."

The slight pain, humiliation, and degradation made the man shudder erotically. Laxus bet this idiot had no clue that what he really meant was that, with one well-placed call, he could end this man's perfect outward appearance, shatter his happy family life, ruin his reputation, and socially end him.

Laxus turned and strode out of the room, ripping off the latex gloves and throwing them over his shoulders. He knew already, he would never agree to see this man again, not since he knew a name that was too damn close to Laxus' real name. He was rich, he obviously had years of collecting BDSM gear, he would find another dom in no time and hopefully forget all about _Lexus._

At least it was not _master_ anymore. Laxus never wanted these filthy pigs to call him master again.

Right now, he just wanted to go home, put on some porn, lean back in bed, and stroke off to thoughts of creamy limbs bound with his belt and verdant hair sprawled across the pillows.

* * *

Freed was sitting in his dorm room trying to study a business model, comparing the class project instructions to what he had written up, and cross-referencing that with three textbooks and something he found online. Flute music played over his iTunes. He now had a large collection of classical flute music pirated off websites. If he ever got to go driving with Laxus again, he wanted a whole soundtrack to ease the man's motion sickness.

He paused. Just thinking about Laxus made him want to reach down and stroke himself, but he really did not feel like dealing with that, not when his roommate could come home at any time. Not for the first time, Freed wondered if he should look into off-campus housing for next semester. He could easily afford an apartment, and he had a car to drive to school. Living in a dorm with a roommate was supposed to be part of the whole "college experience." Instead, it was annoying and distracting, especially when he wanted to quickly jerk off so he could focus back on school work.

He sighed, shoving Laxus out of his head. The man had not called or texted him, and he wondered if maybe he would never hear back. Was he just another person in the prolific escapades of the strip dancer? Was it all just some incredibly elaborate dream? No … he had the butt plug, cock ring, leather pants, and male thong to prove that their night together really happened. Those were hidden away so his roommate would not see them.

Freed focused back on his homework. He wrote in a few notes to adjust the statistics, when suddenly his door was kicked open, followed by laughter.

A man with orange hair swaggered in, obviously drunk, with two ladies on either arm. They were young and incredibly gorgeous, but the sight of them made Freed immediately on guard. He felt this had to be some sort of karma, feeling wary of women yet winding up as the roommate of the campus's biggest playboy, Loke.

"Freed, dude, whatcha doin', roomie?" Loke asked. The two ladies had their hands all over him. One was already trying to unthread his belt, eager for the fun to start.

"I live here," Freed said blandly.

"It's Saturday. I thought you hit up one of your twink clubs on Saturdays."

Freed flinched. Loke was usually really cool about Freed's homosexuality. "More chicks for me" was what he said laughingly when they were first put together as dorm-mates. However, Freed could smell the booze from his desk. Loke was drunk, and he often did not realize what he said when intoxicated.

"Gay, huh?" one of the ladies purred, eying Freed, making him feel even more on edge. "Care for a foursome? I wouldn't mind watching two hot guys going at it together."

Freed coldly stared at her. "Are you serious?" he said bitterly.

"Whoa, easy there, kitten," Loke laughed to the buxomly blonde. "Freed is one hundred percent all boys club, no girls allowed."

"Do you two ever…?" she began to ask.

Freed slammed his folder shut, turned off the music, and tapped a few keys to screen-lock his computer so no one would tamper with it. "You have until two AM when the bars close, Loke. Either they're gone, or all three of you are asleep." As he began to walk past, he leaned over to his roommate. "And just so we're clear after last time, I do _not_ make breakfast for your girls."

"I know, dude, I get it. You're a pal. Go out, have fun, live while you're young or you're gonna end up as some old geezer paying dudes to blow you."

The girls laughed at that, but Freed stormed out. For some reason, that comment made him remember Laxus. Was he out there somewhere with one of his _clients_?

He kept trying to assure himself, Loke meant well, and he did not know about Laxus yet. Freed had no clue how to even begin explaining how he had hooked up with a stripper, and he was not even sure if he and Laxus were really _together._ Freed knew that Loke meant nothing by the comment. He just made a really bad drunk, and when it came to ladies, the man was an animal.

Just after he shut the door, Freed heard Loke say, "Nope, sorry kitten, but that's Freed's bed. Don't touch his stuff. He's a good friend."

Hearing Loke respect his privacy made Freed smile, reassuring him that, indeed, Loke was a fairly decent roommate…

"The fun is over on this bed. So, which one wants eaten and which one wants to ride the lion?"

… An insatiable male pig, but a decent roommate.

Freed yanked his coat on. It was drizzling outside, so he took one of the umbrellas the dorm provided. It was dark at 8PM now, and he was not really sure where he could go this late at night. All around Magnolia University, weekend parties were going on. There was some sort of sports game out by the stadium. Was it football season? Freed had little interest in sports besides fencing. He thought about heading to the 24-hour gym and getting in some workout time, but eventually he began to wander a route he knew well.

* * *

Laxus was late to work yet again. It wasn't like he had to put on any special clothes or have makeup done before his dance like some of the people in the club. Still, when he entered the backstage of the South Pole Club, he already heard Talking Heads' "Popsicle" playing, which meant Gray had begun his show.

"Dreyar!" a voice boomed. Only one man called Laxus that. He slowly turned and glared at Jellal. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Not time for my dancing," Laxus said softly.

"Your shift began an hour ago."

"I don't need to primp myself like some of these whores," Laxus said, not caring if other dancers heard him and took offense. Most were already too drunk or high to care anyway. "I don't start making you money until the light on that stage turns yellow."

"You don't make me money _period_," Jellal shouted. "That's the problem. I gave you a second chance when I saw that green-haired mouse. He was a regular with lots of cash, but he hasn't been back since that day. Did you scare him off? You didn't _hurt_ him, did you?"

"No!" Laxus shouted, angry he would even accuse him of that.

"I don't want another one of your _clients_ calling up here because you left him beaten half to death."

"I didn't do that to him," Laxus insisted furiously.

"You drove away a regular. You're not making this club money. Do you know what you're doing? Wasting my goddamn time! Using my reputable stage to prostitute yourself in the hopes that you'll get another filthy rich masochist. Do you really want me to threaten to blackmail one of your mewling submissives for money just to pay for the goddamn medical insurance I have to buy for you?"

"Threaten the wrong one, and you'll end up with this club repossessed and your license to sell alcohol revoked permanently." Laxus leaned into Jellal. "I can do that with just one snap of my belt. You don't threaten _my_ clients, got it? Some of those bastards are more powerful than you can imagine."

"The fact remains," Jellal said coldly, "you're not making the club money. You're a waste of show time. There are lots of pretty little boys out there happy to take up an offer to dance at this club, pleasure a few men, and get paid to do what's enjoyable to them. I know for a fact, you take no pleasure in men. Or women, for that matter." Jellal leaned in close and threatened. "I could replace you like _that_," and he snapped his fingers.

"Only with the street whores you bribe with weed, or people who your bastard twin brother manages to get out of a prison term and have them work here as fucking indentured servants. I know that's how you snagged your claws into Gray. Lyon, too. You bribe them or blackmail them. Not many come here willingly. I did!" he said, thumbing his chest. "You ain't got shit on me."

"I can still fire you. Work your ass on that stage, and I want you circling the floor. I'll even make an announcement: they can take you for a free spin tonight, but all tips are mine today."

"What?" Laxus roared. "You bastard…"

"Then hope someone buys a lap dance. Manage to get that, and you can keep the tips. Until that happens, you work the floor for free. See if that tames you some, and if they see you aren't as scary as you try to seem, maybe they'll buy more dances with you in the future."

"Fuck you!"

"Watch it!" Jellal warned sternly. "Just because you came to this club on your own terms, just because you're not gay, just because you don't actually have sex with your clients, realize this, Laxus Dreyar: you are just as much a whore as the kids in this club who started off blowing old men in back alleys for a twenty. And right now, you're _my_ whore. Now get out there, dance like Bob will give you a blow job if you don't perform like fucking Fred Astaire, and then get your ass onto the floor. Now, I have an announcement to make before your song starts. I get to tell those gentlemen that the Thunder God is free to play."

Laxus had half a mind to walk right back out of that club and go home. However, nothing waited for him there. He hardly had anything to convince him to keep waking up in the morning. Especially since Freed had not been back to the South Pole Club, coming to work was no longer enjoyable.

He had noticed long before that fateful night that there were a set of eyes on him in the audience. He thought of the man as simply "Greenie." Hardly realizing it, he had begun to dance for Greenie. He danced knowing that someone was enjoying it. He aimed most of his pelvic thrusts in the direction of those eyes in the dark that gawked with arousal. He did not even notice this until those eyes were gone, the dark was empty, and no one cared if he gyrated in time to the music or not.

He heard Jellal make his announcement. Fucker! Knowing it was free, he would probably have to keep giving lap dances all night long. He hated that part of the work. He did not mind the dancing, but getting right up to people … he wanted to beat the crap out of most of those men, and it was hard to hold back.

Gray came backstage, shirt missing, only boxers on, using a towel to wipe away the sweat from his hard performance. He went straight over to Laxus.

"Did you piss in Jellal's bourbon? He's never been this livid just because you show up two minutes before showtime, so long as you're on the stage when the music starts."

Laxus glared at the bright stage and the darkness beyond. "Why do you work here, Gray?"

"Eh?" He paused his wiping as he thought about that question. "I like it here. I like to dance, the money is good, and Pinkie isn't so bad. He's here again tonight."

"Do you love him?"

Gray's eyes widened. "What? Nats- … I mean, Pinkie?"

"Does he know your name?"

"W-why would you ask that? You know Jellal's rules." He realized he was sounding desperate.

"Gray, you're here because you broke some rules, Siegrain got you out of jail on a technicality, and he told you to work off your lawyer fees by dancing here. You've paid Siegrain back, yet you're still here. You're a damn good dancer. You could dance professionally. And that pink brat, he seems devoted. You two could make a life together."

Gray looked aside just as Lyon passed by down the corridor. "It's more complicated than that," he muttered, watching the white-haired fellow stripper.

"He seems like a good guy. You've had him as a client five times this month alone. Do you ever do it for free?"

"F-free?" Gray echoed fearfully.

"Do you ever feel attachment? Fondness? Love?"

"Laxus, what the hell?" Gray shouted, fisting up his hands to keep from shaking. These were taboo things to ask. The club's rules for strippers were absolute, and Jellal had fired people for forming a relationship with a person and becoming exclusive.

Laxus looked down with uncertainty in his face. "If Pinkie stopped coming, would you quit?"

Gray's mouth dropped in shock. "Wait, is this about that greenie kid? You and him … are you two…?"

Before he could ask, and before Laxus could decide what to tell him, the stage went dark. Jellal walked off the stage and to the wings. He glared at the two dancers.

"Ice Prince, your dragon is waiting. Thor, I want _sparks_ to ignite that stage! Fucking Mjolnir sparks, got it?"

"Whatever," Laxus grumbled.

"Oh, and Bob caught me just before I went on stage. Apparently, whatever god a _thunder god_ prays to, it worked. You have a client request. You're still working the floor for free, but go to that client first. He ordered a VIP room, too."

"How long?" Laxus asked laconically. If it was a VIP room, it was likely one of his old geezers who he beat up sadistically. Right now, he could really use the stress relief.

"Believe it or not, a whole hour. You're still working the rest of the time on the floor, got it?"

"Whatever," he muttered again, and he walked out.

The lights were off, the club was pitch black, but Laxus knew this club well. He did not need lights to know where center stage was, where the pole was, and where was the edge of the stage. He took his usual stance and readied his mind. It was time to be the thunder god.

The flashing strobe light and roll of thunder over the speakers helped to set his mood. When the music started and the lights blinded everyone in a sudden flash of yellow, Laxus had his eyes already gazing out fiercely. He could not see anything at all in the seconds following the flash of all the stage lights. That was fine. There was nothing to look at in the crowd anyway.

As he began the first set of dance moves and his eyes slowly adjusted, he thought he saw a piercing gaze in the crowd. He tried to look out. Sure, there were many people vying for him, especially since it had just been announced that he would be free later on. He saw nothing in particular, but he distinctly felt a solid stare from somewhere in the darkness.

He was in the middle of the chorus when those eyes caught his attention again. It was his imagination, right? He almost forgot to dance, but now his attention was to a side booth … the same booth as always. The stage lights flashed to another cymbal crash in the song synced with a thrust of his pelvis, and in the light he saw the gleam of green hair.

He was here!

Despite himself, Laxus smiled in the middle of the song. His eyes would not leave Freed's. He danced for Freed. He spoke to him through his body. He showed off, hoping Freed would like what he saw. All of his mediocre dancing was gone. He had a _real_ audience now, someone who gazed at all of him, not just the bulging muscles and thick lump in the leather pants. He had a reason to look sexy now.

As the finale came up and Laxus began to unzip his pants, sliding that zipper lower and lower, he turned his body away from center stage. Maybe people on the other side of the room got a worse view, but Laxus didn't give a shit about them! He was showing that hidden treasure to just one man in that room, because only one man in the whole world had made him feel a stirring down there.

He added one little maneuver to his dance. He stroked sensually down the root that the leather pants just barely kept tucked away, and he nodded with a wag of the eyebrow to Freed.

_'This is yours. Yours alone. You want it? Here it is. Beg for it!'_

Then the lights went off, and Laxus rushed off the stage. He zipped his pants back up while backstage and yanked his shirt on in a rush.

As he began to walk by, another dancer, Lyon, was coming forward for his show. "Hey, Laxus, I saw you talking to Gray earlier and—"

"Be jealous another day," Laxus said dismissively.

He rushed into the audience. Plenty of hands reached out to him. Some flat out propositioned him.

"I've got someone first. Keep hot and ready for me," he said to these men, wishing he could beat the shit out of every one of them.

He walked up to Freed. The man smiled enigmatically, and it made Laxus uncomfortable.

"Ya wanted a VIP room, right?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes. I'm not sure where they are," Freed answered, sipping his martini, looking perfectly calm on the outside, but Laxus noticed the way a vein that ran up his pale, slender neck throbbed rapidly.

"Follow me." Laxus turned and walked away, struggling his hardest not to break out into a massive grin.

**End of Chapter 9**

* * *

_A/N: Songs mentioned in this story include "Popsicle" by Talking Heads and "Ride the Lightning" by Metallica. I do not own either songs, obviously._


	10. VIP Room

Chapter 10

**VIP Room**

Once they were out of the main club room, Laxus could hear Freed's light footsteps. "I said I'd call you," he spoke quietly.

"You also said I could come here if I really needed you."

Laxus looked back in dread. "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

He pouted. "I want to be in the room first."

Laxus increased his speed, and soon they entered one of the side rooms where customers with plenty of money could have their own private show, generally with as much touching and contact as they wanted.

Freed entered a darkened room lit in low red lights. It had a couch stretching across the entirety of one wall, a mirror against the other wall so the person could watch the stripper from all angles through the mirror, and a round table in the center with a brass pole for dancing.

"Are there cameras in here?" Freed asked, looking around at the place.

"Yes. It's for safety reasons. No audio, only video, but we might be watched."

"I see," Freed muttered, and he took a seat on a couch. "How much can I do to you?"

"Touch, fondle…"

Freed's eyes gazed up swiftly. "Suck you?"

Laxus gulped hard.

"I wanted to last time." Freed's eyes turned coy. "Would that please you, master?"

The way he phrased it made Laxus smile. Suddenly, inside this room, he was a god again. Jellal, club finances, all that bullshit did not exist in this room. "To tell you the truth, I ain't never had someone suck me before."

"O-oh," Freed muttered, casting his eyes down in disappointment.

"But it's allowed. Pretty much anything but penetration is allowed in here. But what's wrong with you? Why'd you come here?"

"Later," Freed said. "If it pleases you, I want you now, master."

He loved that voice calling him master again. Laxus walked up and patted him on the head. "My good little slave can touch all he wants. I won't restrain you … _this_ time. Take a seat."

Laxus started up some music while Freed sat on the sprawling leather couch, long enough to hold half a dozen people. Something pounding and erotic suddenly pulsed through the sound system. Laxus stepped up onto the round table, his back to the brass pole, and began to dance while the green-haired man watched with rapt interest.

"You're already hard. Touch yourself," Laxus ordered.

Freed blushed, but he reached down. Bashfully, he stroked the length through his pants.

"Damn," Laxus smiled, watching his adorable slave overwhelmed with lust, all attention, all thoughts, all desires, focused solely on him.

Freed stroked slowly, not wanting to rush this just yet. Then he suddenly scooted to the edge of the couch. He reached out and held Laxus' undulating hips. Seeing the silent desire, Laxus stepped off the table and let those needy hands bring him closer, closer, right up to the couch. Laxus straddled over Freed's lap and kept dancing, thrusting up against him in time to the music.

"Oh God," Freed shuddered as the leather stroked over his cotton slacks. "La- … uh … Thor?"

"Best to call me Thor here, Greenie."

"I put a condom on while I was waiting for you after the dance."

Laxus' dancing froze. "Are you saying…?"

"I don't want to hold back this time. I … I wanna be … humiliated. I wanna … c-cum in my clothes. From you. I wanna cum because of you dancing on my lap."

Laxus chuckled slyly. "My little masochistic," he said with adoration, and he stroked down Freed's hair. "Do you wanna cum in your clothes or suck me off first?"

"Could … I … uh," he muttered. "That is … can you still dance for me even if I suck you off first?"

"Dunno. Afterward, I'm usually too sensitive for anything to touch me down there."

"Then … dance first?" He looked aside uncertainly. "I bought an hour, right?"

"That must have cost you. Most people buy per song, not in block time."

"I figured you might be having issues at work again. Bob mentioned you've gotten into trouble. Seems I came at a good time. Is Jellal really having you give _free_ lap dances?" Freed asked indignantly.

"Just today. I sorta bitched on him."

"Well, I don't like it. How do I extend my time with you?"

Laxus' eyes widened. "What? Freed!"

"Greenie, right?" he smirked playfully.

"You already paid for an hour. Do you realize how much that costs?"

"It's on my credit card; obviously I'm aware of the amount. Don't worry, I have the money."

"I work a four-hour shift."

"Then I'll buy another three hours."

"No!" Laxus stood up and walked away. "Why are you doing that? If you're fucking _jealous_, I told you, I'm a stripper. This is my work. I ain't changing that. If Jellal fires me, I'll go to another strip club. It's not like this city is lacking in them. If not there, then another, and another, any place where I can get what I need."

"Someone to beat up, right?" Freed asked with a level gaze.

"I told you, I'm _not_ going to do that to you," Laxus shouted. "I won't … I don't want … shit!" he sneered, turning away sharply.

"You don't want to hurt me beyond what I can bear, and what I can handle isn't at the level of what you need. I get it," Freed said calmly. "That's not the issue. I'm not jealous at all. I'm angry." When he saw Laxus' jaw drop, Freed clarified, "Not with you. With Jellal. Your draw is in your aloofness. He's profaning that image by passing you around like a free whore at a frat party. He's lowering the standard we masochists have, the expectations we alone keep. If we see you being a slut to anyone … that's not what we want to imagine!" he shouted furiously.

Laxus stared in amazement. "You're worried about … about my image? As a strip dancer?"

"As this club's one and only true sadist," he said firmly. "When Jellal said that your would be free … sure, I bet there are plenty of people horny enough to want you tonight, but they won't want you on any normal night. If they did, they would have bought a dance with you already. But me and the others who sit in our booths shivering because we want someone like you to dominate us … I glanced around. I know the regulars in this club. All of the people like me, who admire your image as Thor, were all really upset to hear Jellal announce that. We don't want to see you passed around. We don't want you to be just another dancer. You're our _thunder god_. You stand above the others who would do anything for money."

"I _do_ do anything for money," Laxus said bitterly.

"You don't give blow jobs, or have sex with people. You said you … you're still a … a vir-…"

"Hey!"

"I saw the looks in their eyes. If not me, then one of the others will buy up your time, anything so we don't have to see our thunder god humiliated. We're that sort of crowd," Freed said, dropping his head and looking bashful. "I've chatted to a few others. I know they would feel the same as me. They wouldn't want to see this. Not at all!"

Laxus placed a large hand on Freed's shoulder. "I get it," he said gently. "Still, you don't have to do this alone. If one of them wants to protect that image you speak of, they'll do something about it. If they don't care, then that's fine, too. I'll know if I really do have that impact with more than just you. Maybe if I know there are others in the crowd, I can keep dancing when you're not here."

Freed pouted and looked away. "I'm sorry I didn't come back."

"You said you wouldn't. I expected it. So why did you return? Something happen?"

"I got booted out of my dorm."

"Trouble?"

"Horny roommate, two girls at the same time, I didn't want to stick around to make it a foursome."

"Good!"

Freed smiled at hearing that slightly jealous growl again. "Also … um…" Freed reached into his pocket and yanked out a slightly crumpled envelope.

"Court summons?"

"What? N-No! Opera tickets."

"Opera?" Laxus asked, peeking inside the envelop. Sure enough, there were two tickets for the Magnolia Opera House.

"I told you about my friend who sings opera. Well, Mira gave me these tickets. They're second tier and a Monday matinée, but I was hoping … maybe … um…"

Laxus' eyebrow arched high as he read the ticket, and he glanced up at Freed in shock. "_The Marriage of Figaro_?"

Freed shrank down bashfully. "Is that okay?"

Laxus remembered his little daydream about living a life of peace with Freed and going to the opera together. It was now happening, and it made his hands shiver. Laxus suddenly thrust the envelop back.

Freed's expression shattered. "No?" he asked sadly.

"I can meet you at ten but no earlier, since I work until midnight."

Freed grinned excitedly. "Then you'll go?"

"I don't have a tuxedo."

"It's a matinée. You can come in anything. Well, maybe not leather pants, but just slacks and a button up shirt will be fine."

"Don't dress all fancy and make me look like an idiot."

"I'll probably wear something like what I'm wearing now. Really, people don't often dress in tuxedos and ball gowns these days," he chuckled, but then he stopped short, worried he might be offending Laxus. "Have … have you ever been to the opera?"

Laxus looked aside petulantly. "No," he muttered. "Not like I never wanted to. Just couldn't afford it. I like opera, though."

Knowing he could treat Laxus to something unique warmed Freed's heart. "It'll be fun. Keep your ticket."

"Idiot! Do you know how goddamn tight these pants are? Plus I'll be having lechers grope me all night. Tickets like this, I'll lose them for sure, and I don't want to miss _The Marriage of Figaro_. I happen to really like that opera, one of my favorites to listen to. I'm glad you didn't pick something depressing for our second date."

"D-d-date?" Freed stuttered. "Second?"

"Don't you consider drinks and a night in a hotel as our first date?"

"Oh! I didn't realize … that is…" He lowered his head. "I didn't know what to consider all of that, to be honest. I also wasn't sure if you wanted to count this as a date or just more _getting to be friends_ outing type of thing."

"I thought I made myself clear before. _More than friends._ Unless you don't want to be boyfriends with a stripper."

"N-No! That's fine. I don't mind, really. It's something you like to do, right? Strip dancing, that is."

"I dunno if I particularly _like_ it, but it's something I need to do."

"For … _clients_. Right," Freed muttered.

Laxus eyed him cautiously. "Is that a problem? If it is, we need to clear it up right now."

"It'll take some getting used to," Freed admitted honestly, "but I don't think it'll be a problem."

"You have no reason to be jealous. You know that those old men I beat up, and even those lechers out there, none of them turn me on. Only you do."

Freed smiled to hear him say so, but he still looked uncertain. "You may have to tell me that once in a while."

"Then I'll tell you." Laxus walked up to Freed and straddled his lap. "And I'll show you," he whispered sensually, thrusting his body up against the lithe man. "Over and over," he purred gruffly, "until it's etched into your body—"

"Nnngh!"

"Until not a single nerve questions me when I tell you that no one else in this world can turn me on like you can." He rotated his hips, rubbing playfully over the shaft sticking up through the loose slacks.

"L-Laxus!"

"Use the other name, Greenie." A single fingernail scrapped over Freed's lips, encircling them with light scratches.

"A-ah! Tickles."

"Oh?" he smirked. "Should I soothe away the tickle?"

Laxus dived in and devoured those lips. He felt Freed's body stiffen, and the lump in his trousers hardened even more, straining against the fabric.

"Still got that condom on your dick, or did you shrink out of it?"

"I … I need to check."

"No." Laxus leaned in and kissed him harder. "I'll check."

His hand slipped under Freed's belt and wiggled through his underwear until finally he felt the arousal.

"Feels like it slipped a little." He thrust his hand down, and Freed jolted at the hard stroke.

"Aaaaah!"

"God, I love that voice of yours." Laxus pulled his hand out and palmed him through the trousers. "But you wanted this done as a dance, right?"

"If it pleases you, master," he begged breathlessly.

"Damn, you are _hot_," Laxus sneered as his groin thrust up against Freed's body. He began a slow rocking, taking his time. "Ya wanna come in your pants, huh?"

Freed could not answer. It felt so dirty, so perverted … and he wanted it so much.

"Did you secretly like that one time?" He thrust quicker as the music playing in the room changed to another, faster song.

"Not in front of everyone, but … but I did. I … I liked … being overwhelmed."

"Not in front of others, though, eh?" Laxus slowed and leaned down into Freed's ear. "Someone is watching us, ya know."

Freed's eyes snapped open.

"I told you, this room has a camera."

"No one actually watches it though, right?" he asked frantically.

"Who knows?" Laxus chuckled slyly. "Erza sometimes gets her kicks watching the videos. Did you see her in the audience today?"

"I … uh … no."

"Bob lets her know if someone bought a VIP room," Laxus explained as his hips swiveled, and Freed let out a high moan. "She'll go into the security hub and watch the videos, sometimes with Jellal there to help her get off. She can't hear us, but she can watch. Maybe she'll zoom the camera in on your face right … as … you … come!"

Freed groaned deeply and clutched Laxus' shoulders as he felt himself becoming overly aroused. It was the same problem he usually had, he just could not last long, but this time he decided not to hold back.

"Let me see what face you'll make for her," Laxus said seductively. "Eyes up!"

Freed raised his head, flushed cheeks, teary eyes, and all.

"Yes. That face. It makes me…" He pressed up firmly, and Freed felt a stiffness in the leather pants.

"Lax- … Thor!"

"Don't make that mistake again. I'm serious."

"Got it. But … you're…"

Laxus slid against him slowly. "Hard as a fucking rock."

"Oh God!" His hips moved on their own, wanting more friction.

"You're the only person who does this to me, the only one who excites me," Laxus said sensually. "Now I'm gonna etch into your body that you, and no one else, turns me on."

Freed twitched between Laxus' thigh, desperately thrusting up into him. "Th-Thor! Master! I'm … I'm really about to…"

"I know. Feel this," he said, frotting up against him, not even in time to the music anymore, "and remember that even if I give a lap dance to another man, they'll never feel _this_ rubbing against them. Only you. Only … you!"

Freed's body tensed and bowed backward on the couch. "Oh God! Master!" he cried out.

Laxus watched that face with amusement. He felt Freed's fingers grasp tightly, almost tearing the fabric of his shirt. Under him, that body convulsed, and he felt the jerks of Freed's hips. This was something magical. He could make men cum with ease, but somehow, this was more than just bodily fluid being released. It was a view of heaven. His angel was most glorious when succumbing to sin. Laxus slowed down to a soft undulation, until even that made Freed shiver.

"Heh! So, did you do it?" Laxus asked cunningly, wanting to keep his little green angel trapped earth-bound for a while longer.

Freed just panted, staring up at the ceiling.

"Tell me. Tell me what you just did," he ordered.

"I … did."

"Did what? Tell me exactly."

Freed shuddered at the sense of humiliation. "I … came … in my pants."

Laxus ran a finger down Freed's throat. "And who made you feel that good?"

"Y-you did, master."

"That's right. I like to make my slave tremble. I like to make you feel ashamed, and wonderful, and make you suffer the most intense pleasure. That's what I want to do to my precious slave."

Precious! Freed liked to feel beloved, and although _slave_ was a demeaning post for a wealthy son like him, he wanted this thunder god to lord over him. He felt like being the slave of this man was the most cherished role of all.

Laxus finally pulled back and straightened his clothes. "Now, let's get you cleaned up before that condom slips off and you really do make a mess."

"But the room!"

"You reserved it for an hour. It'll still be here. If you're lucky, I may give you more dances."

Laxus led him out of the room and down the hallway. As they came to the bathroom, they heard noises inside.

"Quiet, Sting. They'll hear you."

"Then don't … _ahhhn!_"

Freed blushed at the sounds. "Oh!"

"It's fine," Laxus grumbled. "It's those twin dragons again. They'll shut up real quick. Or … would you like to give them a show?"

"What?" Freed exclaimed.

"Let them know they're not the only ones."

"But … but I…" His head dropped. "I just came. I can't go again this quickly." He felt a hand suddenly drop on his head and ruffle his hair.

"I was joking, idiot."

Laxus banged the door open, and instantly the two others in the restroom fell silent. Freed was amazed they could go from gasping to dead silence like that. He saw no one around, but he noticed that the furthest stall was closed.

"Clean yourself up. Meet me back in the VIP room," Laxus ordered.

Freed was shocked he was leaving. "R-right!" he yelped. He rushed into a stall and disposed of the condom. He urinated, cleaned up, and left. However, he hesitated curiously by the restroom door.

"Are they gone?"

"Yeah."

"God, that was close."

"Only because you're so loud. Now, where were we?"

"Ahh! Rogue, wait!"

"No. I need it. Now!"

"Nnngh! Slow down. Oh f- … Rogue! I'm … ah! _Ahhh!_"

"Sting. Oh God, Sting."

Freed laughed silently. He supposed he could hardly blame those two. Plenty of times, he had sneaked off to the strip club's restroom to quickly jerk off. If he came to a club like this with Laxus, he would much rather have his thunder god screw him in a restroom stall, rather than take care of it himself.

**End of Chapter 10**


	11. Master and Slave

Chapter 11

**Master and Slave**

When Freed entered the VIP room again, Laxus stood by what appeared to be an MP3 player built into the wall.

"What sort of music do you like?" the large man asked.

"Wh-what?" Freed stuttered in confusion.

"It's your turn, so you get to pick the music."

"My turn?" Then Freed remembered, he had offered to suck off Laxus. "O-oh!" His cheeks began to turn pink as he thought about it. He had blurted it out earlier, but the truth was that he had never given a blow job, he was afraid he would do it badly, and the VIP room of a strip club was not the most romantic place to have such a monumental first.

"Classical won't cut it," Laxus muttered. "Anyone who hears Mozart is gonna wonder what the hell is going on and peek in."

"Wait, people can _peek in_?" Freed cried out.

"The bouncers do if they think anything might be a problem. Screams, arguments, weird sounds. Classical music would be weird."

"What about … a love ballad?"

"Aw, ain't you just a fucking romantic," Laxus teased. He changed music selections, and Barry White began to croon over the sound system. "Next best thing. I personally added this song into the mix when I saw that they didn't have any Barry White. I mean, what the hell! Barry White is pure vocal sex!"

"I … I like this song," Freed muttered nervously.

Laxus smirked around his shoulder and over at him. "Yeah? Does it make you hot?"

"It … does, yes."

"You have a good taste in music."

Laxus turned back around and continued to fiddle with the volume. Freed glanced around, found a glass of water, and took a drink. His nervousness was making his throat dry.

"How the hell do you lower the bass on this stupid thing?" Laxus muttered.

Freed walked over behind him and looked over Laxus' shoulder at the wall-mounted player. Then his eyes drifted over to the blond. Laxus' face looked so serious as he tried to fix the balance of treble and bass. It was such a minor thing to fix, it would not change the enjoyment of the song all that much, yet he looked so focused. Freed began to wonder if Laxus was doing this because he was also a bit nervous and trying to put off the inevitable a bit longer. Laxus had said that no one had ever given him a blow job before. Maybe he was anxious and trying to hide it. Freed wanted to help break the ice, so he stood on tiptoes and licked the back of that brawny neck.

Laxus shivered at the hot wetness. "What the hell?"

Freed wrapped his arms around Laxus' wide body and licked again, from the tight muscles near the base of the neck, gliding his tongue up slowly along the spine, and up to the hairline, licking the first few strands of blond hair, moistening them and making them stand up. He felt Laxus' body jolting, and it made Freed smile that he could give back to the thunder god some of the pleasure he received.

"S-stop," Laxus whispered.

Freed was stunned by the whimpering sound. Was this a weakness? He wanted more! He licked along the edge of the neck, and then he kissed right at the hairline, softly sucking the neck with his lips, letting his mouth drag over the skin.

"Stop!" Laxus shouted, twirling around and pushing Freed away. One hand flew to the back of his neck to feel the wetness left behind. "Fuck, what the hell was that?" He leaned over as a burning sensation tingled his groin. Somehow, just that tiny bit had almost made him lose it.

"Did you like that, master?"

Laxus sharply looked up into those eager eyes. He felt lost, overwhelmed, slightly scared by these intense emotions that burned his chest. Freed truly was a client right now, and there were strict rules of conduct within the strip club. Right at that moment: _fuck the rules!_ He had been fantasizing over Freed for weeks, and now that he was here, Laxus was being conquered so easily.

He needed to somehow reestablish control over himself and the scenario.

"Sit," he ordered, although his voice still sounded faint from the shock of almost coming from a mere lick.

Freed sat on the couch again, and Laxus straddled him.

"W-wait!" Freed cried out.

"This is for me, not you," Laxus insisted, thrusting up against Freed. "Just feeling you under me—" He leaned over and licked Freed's neck, giving back the same sensual tenderness. "—just this much is all I need."

"L- … Thor."

"Just call me master. Here or somewhere else, that word is safe."

"If it pleases you, master."

"It does. _You_ do. My cute little slave pleases me very much. And I want to please my slave. You're mine. Mine alone. A slave can't have two masters, so you're only mine. My beloved slave."

Freed bit his lip in happiness to hear that.

"I want you to suck me, Greenie," he whispered into the flushed ear. "I wanna show that bastard Jellal, I do more than dance. Show him what I do to you. Make it so loud, the bouncers hear you."

He sucked on Freed's neck, and the young man writhed with a shuddering cry. He clutched tightly to Laxus as he felt erotic pain in his neck and the scrape of teeth.

"Yes, like that," Laxus moaned. "Shit, I'm ready to come just feeling you squirming. How can you do this to me so quickly? Sexy ladies, hot guys, a room full of people who want me to pleasure them, old men who would pay me a small fortune if they could just suck me off, and I can't get hard for any of them. You barely moan a little and…" He thrust up against Freed to show him the engorging results. "You do this to me, Greenie. No one else. I ain't ever let a person suck me, not because I'm chaste and shit, but because nobody gets me hard. Ya wanna be the first to taste me?"

"God, yes! I mean, if it pleases you, master," he moaned as he thought about this ultimate chance to show Laxus how much he would do to pleasure him.

Laxus stood and yanked off his loose shirt. "Don't do it so much that it hurts you, okay?"

"I won't. Not here, at least."

Laxus laughed wryly as he unthreaded his belt. Freed's heart began to race, and he caught himself licking his lips.

"That hungry?" Laxus asked, smirking at the eager face. He unzipped his leather pants and pulled out a cock already enlarged and wet on the tip. "Does my angelic slave want to eat from the fruit of sin?"

"Please," Freed whispered as the erection got closer. His mouth opened, and he began to lean forward with his tongue out to lick. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head up, tongue still lolling out. Laxus glared down at him with a playful twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Please … what?"

Freed cringed under the hair pulling. "Please, master, let me suck you."

The fingers released, and Laxus stroked the lengthy green hair in praise. "Good boy. Since you asked so nicely, I'll let you. But only you, got it!" Laxus stroked down his scalp. "Only you get to do this."

That exclusive privilege shivered in Freed's nerves. He felt even more potently how much of an honor this was, to be Laxus' pet, his slave … his first and only. He felt unworthy of the honor, and he wanted to show he would try to live up to such high expectations.

He looked at Laxus' cock sticking out from the leather pants. The audience out there in the hall blaring with music that he could just barely hear under Barry White crooning _Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe_, those people would never see this sight. Laxus would show them only the root of a limp, unaffected penis. None of them could make Laxus rise to attention like this. Nothing they did, even if they touched and groped him with their lecherous hands, nothing would cause this to happen.

Only him.

Freed reverently kissed that arousal. He lifted his eyes and met Laxus' gaze. It was a silent look of permission. He took the head of the cock past his lips, cradling it with his tongue. Slowly, he pressed his face closer, smelling the sweat of Laxus' skin, fresh from his dance both on stage and in this room, and a muskiness wafted around his nose. Sweat, leather, sexual musk, it all blended as his face pressed closer into the sculpted lower abdomen and his nose felt the tickle of pubic hairs. He could hardly stop the hedonistic groan that vibrated around that girth.

Laxus was silent as he watched his cock vanish into this man's thin, pale lips. His hand came down onto the green hair, stroking it, feeling the softness of that hair tumbling past Freed's shoulders. Girls in high school had offered to suck him, but he never got aroused enough. Old buggers had offered to pay him for the privilege, but he felt disgusted by the mere thought of their tongues on his skin. Freed, though … Freed was different. Laxus still was not sure what it was about this man—maybe he would never figure it out—but he knew he could finally experience this sort of indulgence with only one person.

Freed pulled back and looked up, worried about the silence. "Is it okay?"

"Don't you dare stop again," Laxus said, his voice hoarse as the intense pleasure betrayed him.

When Freed took Laxus' cock back inside his mouth and started to suck with more vigor, Laxus could no longer hold back a long and low moan.

"Damn, you're a talented cocksucker."

Freed groaned at the insulting praise.

"Do you like being called that? Maybe instead of calling you my slave, I should call you Cocksucker."

The feel and taste of it was excruciatingly good. Freed took it deep into his mouth, to the back of his throat, and then prolonged the suck back to the head, making an obscene noise around it as he kept it tight in his mouth, sucking hard, slurping. The hand on his head clenched, tugging at his hair. Freed pulled off to catch his breath and wipe his chin.

"I told you, don't you fucking stop!" Laxus growled.

"I'll drool on you."

"Then drool. Make it wet. Make my whole damn crotch wet. I want your spit in my pants, got it?"

Freed nodded and dived back down on the whole thing. Laxus could hardly help but grunt and thrust deeper, wanting more of that moist heat.

A part of Freed realized that his spit would be on Laxus' pants. Even if Jellal made him dance on the laps of a hundred men, they would never feel him hard, and his own spit would be rubbing on them. Laxus would only let them feel that much. His spit! This was his way to claim Laxus, coating him in saliva, shielding him with his mouth. It was like he was spitting in the faces of all those men, lechers who did not care about the individual, only about their own gluttonous desires.

"You're damn good," Laxus groaned.

Freed bobbed his head on Laxus' cock in earnest, closing his eyes, relaxing his throat, and sensing his returning arousal. Instead of focusing on his needs, he wanted to fulfill Laxus' desires. Last time, he had done almost nothing to show Laxus his deep appreciation. Now, he wanted to pleasure his thunder god, his lover, his … whatever they were.

"Freed…" Laxus whispered urgently.

He looked up, the cock still in his mouth, and saw Laxus' cheeks flushed and his teeth clenched. He was ready, but he was not ordering Freed to take it. He could have. Freed had partly expect him to grab his hair and demand "Swallow it all, bitch!" Instead, Laxus was showing a small bit of sensitivity. This was something truly intimate, and he was letting Freed make the call, whether to continue to suck, or to finish off with his hand. Freed smiled around the cock at the gentleness Laxus expressed only to him. To show his determination, Freed took hold of Laxus' muscular butt cheeks, pulled him closer, and kept sucking.

Laxus wanted to pound that throat, but he feared his strength. If this was some bastard client, he would not have thought twice about possibly hurting the person, but this was no client. Freed may have paid for his time in this room, but he was different. He was special. Laxus wanted to be rough and never hold back, but he did not want to actually hurt this slender man. Instead of slamming into Freed's throat, he let Freed take it at the speed he wanted…

Which was too damn slow!

"Greenie!" he snapped. "Speed up and make me come, bitch!"

Laxus swore he felt a purr of lust in that throat. The rapid back-and-forth of tight lips, now with extra suction, pulled him over the brink. His fingers clenched in Freed's hair, but somehow the man did not cry out and lose the grip of his lips. Laxus gasped three times, hips barely thrusting, as he came.

Hot, bitter semen flooded Freed's mouth. He groaned, swallowing it as best he could, but some overflowed his mouth, dripping from his lips and down his chin. Swallowing was hard. The cum was thick and stringy, sticking to the back of his throat. Suddenly, not meaning to, he pulled back and coughed.

"Greenie!" Laxus cried out, kneeling in front of him with worry.

"I'm fine," he coughed. "Swallowed wrong."

"You didn't need to swallow it, idiot." Laxus grabbed up a towel and a drink from a table beside the couch and handed both to Freed.

"Wanted to," Freed coughed. He wiped his face with the towel, but he did not spit anything out. He instead swallowed some liquid from the cup, only enough to get the thickness out of his throat. Finally, the choking stopped, and he looked up with tear-moistened eyes. "Did it please you, master?"

Laxus' face softened, and he placed a hand on Freed's thigh. "It did. Incredibly." As his hand slid up, he felt that the bulge had returned. "You're hard again. Did sucking me get you aroused?"

Freed looked aside with embarrassment. "Sucking my master is … pleasurable."

"Greenie."

The gentle voice made Freed stare in amazement at those tender blue eyes.

"Stand up."

Thighs shaking, Freed rose to his feet.

"Drop your pants."

He gasped softly, but he undid his belt, bashfully lowering his pants and underwear. Laxus sat on the couch and pulled Freed closer to him.

"I ain't never done this, so you gotta tell me if it's wrong," he said sternly.

"Master!"

"You've got talent, as I would expect from a man whom I want as my slave."

"Your … slave?" It was both demeaning and absolutely heartwarming, being the slave of the thunder god.

"You should be proud, but not arrogant," Laxus warned him, and Freed nodded in agreement. "So, since you're a natural-born cocksucker, you have to teach me your trick. That's my order!"

"Y-yes, master."

Laxus smirked, then nuzzled the erection, kissing him, and gave a peck to Freed's balls. "I want to pleasure my slave. That's what makes me happy."

Freed silently sighed, deeply touch, yet he had no clue what to say.

"But I ain't never done this. I don't like doing stuff I haven't tried. It makes me feel like I'm stupid. So don't tease me, or I'm outta here."

"Anything you do will pleasure me."

"I'm not joking," Laxus said harshly. "Tell me how you like it done, but don't laugh if I do it wrong."

"I understand," he solemnly swore.

Laxus nodded sternly, and then he faced the penis in front of him. This was definitely intimidating. Hurting others was his specialty, but giving pleasure was something new. Still, he tried to think about what Freed had just done. He mimicked as best as he could, licking softly up the shaft. Freed gasped and his body tensed. Laxus instantly pulled back in worry.

"That felt good," Freed quickly told him. "Like that."

Laxus relaxed and took just the head into his mouth, wrapping his lips just under the glans. Freed bit back a whimper.

"They can't hear you," Laxus muttered, lips flickering over the turgid arousal.

_They!_ Freed finally remembered that there was a camera somewhere in this room. There was a possibility that they were being watched, right now, filmed and broadcast onto a small monitor in some dark security room. The thought intimidated him, but then he remembered what Laxus had said. He wanted to show Jellal that he was more than just a dancer. Laxus wanted to prove himself. Freed decided, he would do anything to help.

He stroked the spiky blond hair. "More," he whispered gently.

Laxus obeyed the request, mouth working down the shaft an inch at a time before pulling back up to the tip to swirl his tongue.

"Oh God, that! Just like that," Freed cried out in a shudder.

There was a good reason Laxus had never sucked off any of his clients. Oh, plenty had offered outrageous sums of money to have that done, but Laxus only ever used his hands. Never his mouth. There was something about the mouth, the intimacy of it, a portal into the rest of his body. Hands were external. Even his cock was external. But his mouth? He did not want people to get _inside_ of him like that.

He did not trust putting something inside his body. He always figured it had to do with his father.

So as Laxus felt that cock enter, he cringed just a little. The taste was bitter but bearable, yet something flashed through his mind, some memory he did not fully recall as belonging to him, but he supposed it must have happened for it to be this vivid. Being tied down, straps over his chest and limbs, and something shoved in his mouth, a gag of some sort, shoved deep in his mouth so he would not bite his tongue. He briefly saw his father's cold eyes, but the rest of his face was hidden by a surgical mask. Then pain. His mind blanked out as soon as the pain began. Maybe he had passed out back then.

"Thor?"

That name, one that was not his own but somehow belonged to him, snapped him out. Whatever had been in his mouth was out now, and sad eyes were looking at him. Freed had knelt down, his pants still dropped, but he held Laxus' face, gazing worriedly.

"We can stop," he whispered.

Laxus only then felt moistness on his cheeks. He reached up in confusion. Were these tears? Why the fucking hell was he crying?

"Just … a memory," he muttered, lost between fantasy and reality, past and present.

The sadness deepened, and Freed combed his fingers through the short, blond hair.

"No, stand up," Laxus ordered. "Let me finish."

"If this is bad…"

"I _don't_ like not finishing what I start, no matter what," he insisted. "Now stand up!"

"Laxus," he whispered tenderly.

"Please, Freed," he said just as quietly. Those blue eyes flicked to a corner of the room. In a secretive whisper, he explained, "Dammit, but they likely are watching me. Especially Jellal, after I bitched on him earlier. He thought I had hurt you, drove you away from the club."

"You didn't hurt me," Freed insisted.

"That's what I told him. Now that you're back, he's probably eying me like a hawk to make sure I behave. Right now, he's probably wondering what the hell is going on. I need to finish this, and … and I want to."

Freed nodded in solemn understanding. "Where's the camera?"

"Southeast corner." His eyes motioned to the direction.

"Master, forgive me." Then Freed stepped aside, twisting his body just a little to be in profile with the camera. With wild gesticulations, he pointed to his crotch. "Suck it!" he shouted. "Hard, you bitch!"

Laxus arched an eyebrow high. What the literal-fuck?

"I don't care if you don't want to. You're gonna swallow it, you whore!"

"Greenie?"

Freed suddenly grabbed Laxus' head and practically smashed his face into his crotch. "Choke on it," he shouted outrageously loud, pulling Laxus' hair harshly.

"Ow, you fucker! What the hell?" Laxus roared in pain-driven rage.

The door to the VIP room suddenly opened, and one of the bouncers entered. "Problem?"

Laxus yanked back, and Freed turned away from the door, which just so happened to angle him closer to the camera. Laxus rubbed out the pain in his scalp, but a second later he finally understood what Freed was getting at. He held back a smile, scowled instead, and lashed out at the green-haired man.

"Don't you _ever_ fucking pull my hair again. I told you, this is on _my_ terms!" Then he looked back to the large bouncer. "It's fine, Jura. He's never been in a VIP room. I guess I didn't explain the limits clearly enough."

"Does he need a _lesson_?" Jura asked, cracking his knuckles.

"No, it's fine. It won't happen again."

"I'm right down the hall," the bald man said, and he left.

Laxus glared over at Freed. "You little bitch," he said, his face terse but his voice inflecting amusement.

"You were crying. I had to make it seem legit," he explained.

"You're damn brilliant, that's what you are." Laxus stalked over to Freed and glared down at him. "Must be that rich boy schooling, eh?"

He tried not to look cocky, but his voice betrayed him. "You could say that planning ahead in battle is a specialty of mine."

"I really do wanna see you swordfight." Laxus reached down and stroked him. "But right now, I want more of this _sword_."

"You really don't have to. No one would question if you didn't, not after that."

Those large fingers squeezed Freed's cock, painful but only enough to be pleasurable. "I said I want more, so shut the hell up. Now, I assume you're standing precisely here to be at a good angle."

"They'll see you swallow me."

"Good. Let them watch you. Make it a good show, Greenie."

"If it pleases you, master."

Laxus dropped to his knees and licked up the shaft. He was half conscious of where the camera was, and he tilted his head just a little to show off his lapping tongue. If Jellal and Erza really were watching—and since Jura arrived so swiftly, he guessed they must have sent a warning down to the bouncer at the first signs of trouble—then he wanted that bastard and his way-too-good-for-him wife to see just how much pleasure he could give to a _client_.

Laxus' fingers racked over the skin of Freed's hips, nails scraping lightly against his pale flanks, relishing the full-body tremor as he flattened his tongue to lick at the frenulum. Freed moaned loudly—far too loudly and erotically—as Laxus eased into a steady pace, lips wrapped around the erection. The wet sucking noises of saliva being dragged up and down made a secondary tempo as the music changed from Barry White to Marvin Gaye singing _Let's Get It On_.

Freed briefly wondered what sort of soundtrack this was. Seventies Sex-To-Music Soul?

Laxus bobbed his head, taking as much of Freed into his mouth as possible. The high moan struck deep within him, but he felt well-sated for the moment. It was just a tenseness in his gut, as if his brain was asking his cock if it should respond, but his libido answered instead. His dick never did listen to his brain anyway. He felt Freed's cock grow thicker, firmer against his tongue.

Fingers tighten in Laxus' hair, "Oh _God,_ Thor," Freed's voice trembled. "Don't stop, just … don't…" Suddenly, he began to gasp, air spiraling up his chest, higher and higher, louder and quicker. His thighs quivered, his fingers curled, flexed, and curled again within the sweat-stiffened blond hair.

Laxus felt those thin hips thrust erratically. There were no more nightmares now. Just Freed. Just this. Just them.

"Lax- … Tho- … Master!" Freed panted, unable to articulate. "I'm going to…"

His breath suddenly hitched and his body went rigid for three seconds, everything still, aside from his fingernails scraping, quivering, through the blond hair. Then suddenly, a grunt that sounded more like a sob punched out from deep within Freed's chest, and it felt as if his muscles all snapped at once. His head threw back, only faintly aware that he was probably giving one hell of a show. All he cared about was this feeling, stronger than his first orgasm, perhaps because he realized he was not merely coming into a condom. A jolt, another, a powerful third, rocked him. He felt the tongue on him, moving the cum spilling out over to the back of Laxus' mouth. Then he felt swallows around his sensitive cock.

Laxus' eyes closed as the bitter tang pulsed across his tongue. He was letting something into his body again. However, there were no weird flashbacks anymore. Nothing in his past was like this. Nothing compared! The taste, the smell, the feel of this body responding to him, nothing in the universe compared.

He opened his eyes to watch Freed gasp and twitch in aftershocks. It was probably the most beautiful sight Laxus had ever seen, this thinly muscular body reacting to something that was not at all painful, but pure pleasure. He held Freed in his mouth until his breathing evened out and he softened on Laxus' tongue. When Laxus finally let his mouth slip away, Freed trembled.

"You're a good teacher."

Freed was flushed and still breathing raspily. "I hardly instructed you at all."

"On the contrary, I think I learned a lot." Laxus stood and towered over Freed. He tipped the thin jaw up. "I wouldn't mind more _lessons_, though."

Freed gazed up. He saw the shininess on Laxus' lips. _His_ shininess. "Kiss me?" he requested softly, as if fearing this was taboo.

Laxus' eyes showed, it was. "I can give you a lap dance, a blow job, even kiss you as foreplay, but kissing afterward … that's probably pushing it. Kissing … it's not _necessary_. Not in this job."

Freed's eyes drifted down in disappointment.

"Help me clean up," Laxus ordered.

Freed looked up in shock.

"Restroom. No cameras. We can kiss in there."

"Right," he nodded.

They both pulled on their clothes, but Laxus left his shirt open. They left the VIP room to the restroom. Sure enough, as they began to approach, there were sounds again inside, but different voices.

"Gray!"

"I'm serious, don't call me that in this place."

"But your hands … so good!"

Laxus chuckled to himself. "I _knew_ they were on a first-name basis." He paused and looked down at Freed. "I'm gonna ask a favor of you. Be vocal, and don't you _dare_ call me anything but master."

"Y-yes, master."

"I'm fuckin' serious."

"Understood."

Laxus burst through the doors, and the sounds inside stopped. These two were less skilled at going silent, though. A higher sound kept breathing hard, struggling. Freed wondered for only a second before recalling Laxus accidentally slipping that _Ice Prince's_ real name was Gray. He wondered if the other was Pinkie.

They both went into a toilet stall together, and Laxus suddenly thrust Freed hard against the divider wall, making it shake. He kissed fervently and loudly, sloppy sounds of making out.

"M-Master!" Freed cried out.

"Insatiable," Laxus scolded, grinning as he realized Gray would definitely recognize his voice.

"You … you taste like me," Freed moaned.

"Well, that's your cum on my tongue." Laxus thrust his tongue back into Freed's mouth, and the man gagged at the forcefulness of the kiss. "This is how good your cock tastes, you sexy little bitch."

There was a low groan down the way.

Laxus raised up, grinning, trying so hard not to laugh. Freed also thought this was amusing. Laxus was obviously trying to show off to a coworker.

"Please, master," Freed purred

"You have a VIP room waiting for you, y'know."

"But here … please! We can't do _that_ in one of those rooms, right?" he reasoned, stroking his hands over the back of Laxus' neck and up into the hairline.

"Oh shit," Laxus shivered, and it was not at all make-believe. Freed's hands were enticing him all over again.

Freed groaned noisily. "Please, do me, master."

"Not in the club!"

"Master knows I don't like to wait."

"Little bitch. Master is getting angry."

"Oh, please punish me again. You know how much I love it."

Across the restroom, they heard Gray and that pink-haired kid groaning together. Laxus had to pull back and cover his mouth to stifle laughs. He swore, Freed should take up acting classes.

"Please, master." This time, Freed did not look like he was playing along. His eyes were heavy with desire. His hands ran up Laxus' barrel chest. "Please," he begged softly. "I need you. I need the way you make me feel. Please."

Shit, this little masochist was tempting as hell! "I get off work at midnight," he said.

"I don't want to wait."

"You have to. Did you bring your supplies?"

"I … um … n-no," he admitted.

"Then after your time in the VIP room is done, I suggest you hurry home and get them. Meet me back here."

"Will you … use that thing on me again?"

"I left it at home. Maybe … I could buy something else for you."

"Like what?"

"I'll think of something. A new toy for being a good slave."

"Master!" Freed mewled.

Laxus kissed him deeply again. His hand drifted down, but there was no hardness in Freed. Not surprising, considering the man had come twice already.

"Are you sure you're good for a third time tonight?"

"Third?" he heard someone whisper down the way. That was not Gray's voice. Was Pinkie impressed with Greenie after all?

"I'm always ready for you, master."

"Let me wash up. Wait in the room like a good little slave."

"Will master hurry?"

"Master will take his own goddamn time," Laxus smirked.

"If it pleases you, master."

Laxus leaned into Freed's ear and whispered hotly, "You please me." He kissed Freed's ear, then his neck, on down, and finally latched his lips onto Freed's collar, sucking hard.

"Ahhhhhn!" Freed moaned loudly, quivering in his arms.

"Oh fuck," he heard down the stalls. Gray's voice, definitely. Laxus wondered if Pinkie had reacted in some way to Freed's moaning.

Laxus pulled back to see Freed's eyes glazed. A pink oval was coming up on the side of his neck. "That's my mark of ownership. You're mine tonight. No one else can touch you, got it?"

"Y-yes, master," Freed moaned, really loving the thought of being marked by this thunder god.

"Good boy. Wait for me in the room."

Freed left, and Laxus peed. He washed up, hearing low but distinct sounds down the way. He thought about tormenting Gray for being such a goddamn good dancer, but he decided not to make him and Pinkie wait longer. He left, and as soon as the restroom door closed, he heard their moaning voices start up loudly.

"Fuck, give the person time to walk away from the door," Laxus muttered to himself. He saw Jura down the hall. Although the bouncer was technically supposed to stop people from having sex in the restroom, that never happened. It was just a threat to keep too many from trying.

"Everything cool, man?" Jura asked.

"We've worked things out. Thanks."

"Only time I see you in a VIP room is with one of those rich old men you like."

"I don't _like_ them."

"Well, whatever. That young guy isn't bad looking, I guess. Not like I swing that way. It's a first for you, though, someone your age."

"Yeah, plenty of firsts tonight," he grinned privately. "What's the time?"

Jura checked his watch. "Quarter to nine. I'll knock when time is up."

"Take your time, Jura," Laxus said with a private smile.

The bald man gave him an understanding wink. "I _might_ forget to check my watch."

"You deserve a raise."

"Tell that to the boss-man."

Inside the room, Freed was waiting for Laxus on his knees, head bowed. Laxus froze at the posture of a slave in submission. He only briefly realized, anyone bothering to still watch the video would also see this.

"Master was away for so long." Freed kept his eyes down.

"Don't complain," he said sternly.

"It's not a complaint. What does master want?"

"To get rid of that damn camera so I can know if you're doing this for real or just for show," he grumbled.

Freed glanced up finally. "I'm probably taking this master/slave thing too far, aren't I?"

Laxus strode up and put a hand on his head. "I don't mind one bit. Only do it as far as you like, though. If it's too weird, too submissive, then don't do it. We'll figure out what we both like."

Freed nodded, and at the offer, he stood up. Being on his knees like he had seen in dom/sub pornos was just too uncomfortable.

"We still have half an hour. What do you want to do?" asked Laxus.

"Can we do nothing?"

"We can do anything."

"Cuddle on the couch?"

Laxus chuckled and pulled Freed in close, clutching the lean body against him. "You're a damn romantic," he whispered.

"Do you mind?"

"Not one bit!"

They sat together on the massive couch, and Freed curled up into Laxus. Laxus glanced once to the camera. If anyone was still watching … oh hell, like he even cared what they thought anymore. He ignored any potential audience and gazed down to Freed. The poor man looked exhausted. Laxus began to stroke back the long hair, and Freed smiled at being petted.

"Tell me about your roommate," Laxus said softly.

Freed glanced up in surprise at the question.

"I want to know more about you. Your roommate: is he gay?"

"Oh, hell no! A lady's man to the core. Prolific, at that. The dorm nicknamed him _The Lion_ because we joke that he can mate forty times a day. He's actually the reason I began coming here on Saturdays. I'd leave until midnight, so he could have his fun with the ladies."

"Good looking?"

"He's straight. I don't hit on straight guys."

Laxus scowled. "So he's handsome."

"Drop-dead," Freed confessed with a shrug.

"What would he think if I came over to your dorm for a night?"

Freed gasped. "R-Really?" Bringing someone home and kicking Loke out: what a change that would be from the norm.

"Just curious," Laxus said gruffly.

"Knowing Loke, he'd say _All's fair_ and leave to flirt with a girl at a bar or something. He's a cool guy. He doesn't mind that I'm gay, and he _tries_ to accommodate."

"What the hell does that mean?" Laxus asked jealously.

"He got a porn vid once of a foursome: tattooed chick, straight guy, bisexual guy, and a gay guy. I have to admit, other than an obscenely large amount of screen time for the woman, the video was hot, although it was in French."

"Have you and your roommate ever masturbated together?"

"At the same time while watching porn together, yes. Touching one another, hell no. We're friends, and we keep it to that."

"Would you like to watch porn with me?"

Freed smirked up at him. "I wouldn't want to just watch it."

"It could be fun. Watch, get inspiration, tease one another, try to mimic the insane contortions of the actors."

"So long as there are no women in the videos. Sorry, but naked ladies just really turn me off."

"When you go home, pick one of your videos. We'll watch it at the hotel tonight."

"Then it's a date."

Freed smiled, and he leaned into the large chest again. He felt safe with Laxus, like this strong man could always protect him from anything. He felt devoted already. He would love to have this man all to himself, but he knew, he was like lightning, a flash of glory, but too much for one person.

"I'll leave right after time is up," Freed said softly. "I don't want to have to watch you dance for others."

Laxus stroked down his hair. "I told you, you don't have to be jealous."

"I know, but it'll take some getting used to."

Laxus pulled him in closer and gave a clandestine kiss to Freed's forehead. "You're marked as mine, Greenie. No one else gets my mark."

Freed smiled to himself and touched his neck. The mark of the thunder god! "They say lightning never strikes twice."

"Thor can strike his lightning anywhere he damn well pleases," Laxus said, not caring if it sounded like a corny boast.

They both laughed, and their noses rubbed together. They gazed into one another's eyes, so close they could see the details of the irises, the streaks of colors, and the dilation of the pupils. They could feel the breathes from their nostrils mingling, and they felt like their hearts had begun to beat at the same rapid pace.

"Laxus," he whispered, "I don't care about the cameras. Kiss me. Please."

Laxus stroked the blushing cheek and gazed down at the waiting mouth. "If they don't like this, screw them!"

Tenderly holding Freed's face, Laxus leaned in and gave him a firm, lingering kiss on the lips.

Let them watch! Fuck Jellal! Fuck the club rules against exclusive relationships with clients! Fuck his own insecurity! He wanted this man.

With a tremble, Laxus realized he had fallen in love!

**End of Chapter 11**

* * *

_A/N: __Songs mentioned in this chapter include "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" by Barry White and "Let's Get It On" by ____Marvin Gaye_. I do not own either of these songs.


	12. Opera Date

Chapter 12

**Opera Date**

Laxus felt awkward as hell standing outside the Magnolia Opera House. He had on the nicest clothes he owned, a red button-up dress shirt and black slacks he used rarely, but with faded and scuffed black riding boots that he knew were a horrible mismatch. He had tried to tame down his hair, but the gel broke free and the blond strands stuck out even wilder than usual. Patrons arriving stared warily at him, and he knew it was because of the scar running down his eye.

"Where the hell are you, Greenie?" he grumbled. He checked his watch again.

After their night in a hotel, they had curled together in bed and talked about their upcoming date. Laxus began to realize that Freed saw this as a first "real" date, whereas he counted their two hotel nights as dates. He supposed their interpretations of what a date was were different.

Laxus had to be honest with himself: he had not been on a proper "date" since high school when he took a girl to Prom. He had to look up online for advice on what to do. He hated going into a situation unprepared.

"You're here!"

He jolted. He had been looking south, where most of the people were arriving. Freed appeared out of nowhere from the north, surprising him. The green-haired man had a bright smile. Although he always dressed nice, this was the first time Laxus had seen him properly in full daylight. Both times in the hotels, Laxus slipped away in the early morning, not wanting their time together to be ruined by an awkward goodbye.

Now, he saw just how much that green hair gleamed in the sunlight. Freed's face nearly glowed with radiant joy. For a moment, Laxus could not speak.

"You're late." He realized he said it gruffly, but he was struggling not to exclaim something stupid, like _'Wow, you look amazing!'_

"Sorry. I hate the south parking lot. It's crowded and takes forever to get back out with all the cars exiting. The north lot costs slightly more, but it's better, more spaces, easier to exit."

Laxus was reminded that Freed had gone to this opera house—a place Laxus used to dream about visiting some day—enough times to even know where the good parking spots were. It was intimidating to get into a situation where he was the inexperienced one and his partner was the one who knew all the tricks.

"You look really great," Freed said quietly, discreetly eying him up and down.

"You too," Laxus said softly.

"Should we go inside?"

Laxus nodded and followed Freed, joining the flow of patrons entering the opera house.

Since it was a matinée, most of the people around him were older, retired couples who were free in the middle of a weekday. That just made Laxus feel like they stuck out even more.

"The seats are upstairs," Freed said.

Laxus realized he was gazing around at the architecture like an idiot. Maybe Freed was used to the building, but Laxus had never been inside a structure quite like it. The ceiling soared, with a crystal chandelier lighting the grand foyer, frescoes painted on the walls, marble columns evoking a Roman feel, and gilded filigree on the doors of every entryway. He really saw the difference between their two worlds in the opulence of this building.

Freed watched how Laxus gazed around. "Um … we still have some time. Do you just want to walk around the foyer?"

Laxus jolted, caught gawking. "N-nah, it's fine."

"It's your first time here," Freed shrugged. "Let's look around. Oh, I know! Gift shop, this way. I want to look through it. You can wait for me outside, look around while I browse."

Laxus knew Freed was saying this just for him, but he was slightly glad. "Don't you dare buy me a fucking concert teeshirt or shit— uh…" He realized that his profanity had caused a few old ladies to scowl at him. "I mean, I don't think wearing a _Marriage of Figaro _shirt really fits my image."

"Not really," Freed chuckled. "Don't worry, I just like to see if they have a CD of the music. I don't have a recording of this opera."

"I do. Don't buy me one."

"I won't. Hey!" He reached into his wallet and pulled out some money. "I want a glass of wine before the show. There should be enough money for you, as well. The drink vendor is down the corridor to the left. Make mine a riesling, okay?"

Laxus took the money, surprised Freed was giving him this much. Was wine truly that expensive around here? He drifted off while Freed went into the gift shop. He saw the line for the drink vendor. There was not much of a selection, and the elitist aura permeated even what beverages were sold. There was club soda and tea for those who did not drink, mimosas for the brunch crowd, martinis, champagne, and a wine list that sounded like something out of his high school French class textbook. No beer, no whiskey, nothing hard and strong.

When he got to the vendor, he still had no clue what these wines were, so he just said "Two rieslings." When in doubt, order the same thing. That way if he did not like it, Freed could drink it.

The money Freed gave him was way more than he needed, and Laxus pocketed the change to give back to Freed. He did not want to take money from him. Laxus was fine taking money from clients, but … Freed was _not_ a client. He wanted to do this date properly, but he realized there was no way he would have bought a glass of wine at those prices, and he likely could not afford anything in the gift shop. This was Freed's world, and under the soaring vaulted ceiling, with posh benches where ladies wearing pearls gossiped and soft carpeting under his scuffed boots, Laxus realized he was an alien in this strange world where money flowed with ease.

Freed bounded out of the gift shop with a bag. "I got just a little something. Hey, thanks for the wine." He took the glass, swirled the wine around, sniffed it, and took a sip. It was such a refined way of drinking.

Laxus dug into his pocket and yanked out the bills, now slightly crumpled. "Your change," he said roughly.

"Oh, you can keep it," he said lightly.

"No," he said, and his voice was adamant.

"Then use it to go buy something in the…"

"No!"

Freed looked distraught, but he still did not take the money back. "Let's not start off this way, Laxus. Today is my treat. I can't … do for you what you do for me," he said carefully, blushing just slightly. "Let me do at least this much. Keep the money. Be glad I didn't use it to buy you flowers."

"Oh, fuck you," he muttered, but he made sure it was quiet enough not to upset more patrons.

Freed laughed softly. "I saw something you might like." He waved Laxus to come inside the gift shop. "A DVD of the opera, filmed right here in Magnolia, same cast as today. This way, you can watch it at home whenever you don't want me to treat you like this."

"I … don't really mind you doing this," Laxus grumbled, picking up the DVD. "It's not like I hate it. It just makes me feel awkward."

Freed thought this timid side to Laxus was adorable, but he would never tell him that. "Then let me make you feel even more awkward and buy the damn DVD."

Laxus scowled at him, but it cracked into a smile. "Fine!" he grumbled, and he took it up to the cashier, smoothing out the bills he had crumpled to pay for it. There was still just a little money left over, enough for bus fare back home.

Freed walked out to let Laxus do his purchase without having someone there to embarrass him more. Just as he was gazing around the foyer with his wine, a tiny elderly woman approached him, glaring up at Freed.

"You and that blond brute: are you two gay?"

Freed gulped the wine hard, stunned by such a direct question. "I am. He's…" Freed glanced back to the gift shop with a tiny smile. "…undefinable."

"You faggots make me sick," she said, loud enough to attract some attention. "You should be ashamed of yourself, having sex with a man, especially one like that. He's obviously way below the status of a refined gentleman like you."

Freed steeled back his initial emotions and put on a mask of civil amiability. "Ma'am, for one, he and I are not having sex. We are dating, and although it's none of your business, I am a virgin, so please do not make assumptions about my virtue. Two, my boyfriend's father is a world-renown scientist. He is also closely acquainted with many politicians and CEOs. You should not judge him by his looks." He left off that Laxus' father was infamous for his crimes against humanity, and his _close acquaintances _were masochistic clients. "If you dislike my sexual orientation for religious reasons, you are free to follow your religion; however, if you insult me and my boyfriend with homophobic verbal abuse, I know the prima donna _and _the general director very well, and my family have been benefactors of this opera house for three generations. I can have you escorted off the premises for badgering a patron." His fake smile never slipped.

The tiny lady glared scathingly. "Sinners going to hell, that's what you are." Her eyes drifted behind him, and Freed heard those riding boots walking up to him. "I'll pray for your souls." Then she turned away in a huff.

Freed waved with a stiff smile. "Your prayers are appreciated, ma'am. Please enjoy the show." Then, under his breath, Freed muttered in annoyance, "_Bitch._"

Laxus came up right against Freed and whispered down into his ear. "Was she saying what I think she was saying?"

"I'm used to it," Freed sighed.

"You shouldn't have to be _used to it_. If someone dared talk that way to me, I'd punch 'em."

Freed glanced up with a worried but amused expression. "Laxus, she's a little old lady."

"Shouldn't matter. Okay, maybe I'd only slap her, but only because she'd probably fall and break a hip if I used my fist."

"Sheesh," Freed laughed, but he felt happy that Laxus was acting defensively in his behalf. "So, did you buy that DVD?"

Laxus shook his little bag. "Are you happy now?"

"Very!" Freed said with a beaming grin. "Let's find our seats."

They went inside the main theater and up to the second tier, where Freed double checked his ticket to get into the correct seats. They sat with the house lights low, sipping wine.

"Ain't half bad," Laxus decided, looking at his wineglass. "A bit fruity, but not totally crap."

"It better not be crap!" Freed chuckled. "My family procures the wines that are sold here. Dad is an amateur sommelier."

"The hell's that?"

"Wine expert."

"Your family makes wine?"

"No, we buy the wine and donate it to the opera house. My grandfather started it, and it's a family tradition now. It's also a nice tax write-off."

"You live in a totally different world," Laxus muttered.

"It's not such a bad world," Freed shrugged. "At least we have not-totally-crap wine."

"Smart ass," Laxus grumbled with a smirk.

The lights dimmed, and the overture began to play. Laxus watched the stage as Figaro and Susanna—played by Mira—sang _Cinque, dieci, venti_. As the story played out, sung in Italian but with subtitles broadcast above the stage, Laxus lost himself in the music and theatrics. He laughed at Cherubino, and he admired the sweet voice of Susanna.

Freed glanced over at Laxus many times. Seeing this joy warmed his heart. Discreetly, he reached over and put his hand over Laxus' thigh. Laxus was pulled out of the story by the touch. He looked down at the lithe fingers, and then took them into his own. They squeezed one another's hands in the dark theater while the audience was focused on the opera.

When the fourth act was done, Laxus was left in awe. Then, while others left the opera house, Freed pulled Laxus backstage.

"Freed!" Laxus exclaimed softly, looking around at the props and stagehands. "Freed, we shouldn't be back here."

"It's fine," he said, and he pulled Laxus on by the hand. He came to a door with the name "Mirajane Strauss" on the front and gave a knock. "Mira, it's me!"

The door opened. Still in the costume of Susanna but with her wig removed, the white-haired lady greeted Freed with a hug.

"I'm so glad you made it," she cried out. "So, did you like the show?"

"Amazing, as always," Freed smiled. "When you and the Countess switched roles, that was just brilliant."

"Lyra is an amazing singer. I think sometimes, she should have been Susanna, but her voice fits the Countess."

"You will always be the prima donna of this theater, Mira." Then he looked back and saw Laxus standing stoically in the doorway. "Oh, this is my … friend," he said, tripping over the word awkwardly. "Laxus, Mirajane Strauss. Mira, this is Laxus … um … just Laxus." Freed cringed as he realized that Laxus still had not given him his last name.

Laxus stuck out his hand. "Charmed," he said, figuring it was a proper enough greeting.

"My!" Mira whispered, eying him up and down as they shook hands. "Just Laxus, eh? Interesting name. So, what do you do?"

Freed's mouth dropped open that she would immediately ask something like his employment.

"Dancer," Laxus said curtly.

"Oh! We could use someone for the ballet corps. None of our men are strong enough to lift the ladies high enough for _Swan Lake_."

Laxus smirked ironically. "Not really my forte. I'm more into … modern dance."

"Too bad. I would _love_ to see you perform."

Freed sounded like he was choking. "Ah, we … we should let you finish getting changed. I just wanted to let you know I came to see the show. Uh … Laxus, let's go."

Mira called out as Freed tried to hurry Laxus out. "I'll be done in a few minutes. We should catch up, Freed. Luncheon, my treat. There's no way you're saying no," she said with a playful wink. However, her eyes shift to Laxus. "You can stay for lunch, right?"

"I planned on hanging out with Freed all day," Laxus told her.

"Good," she smiled, eying him again. "Well, boys, excuse me for just a moment. There are pastries in the east wing. Go help yourselves and wait for me there." Then she shut her dressing room door.

Freed groaned as they walked away. "Oh God, I can't believe she was flirting with you." He looked up at Laxus timidly. "Sorry about that. She's never like that around me."

"Because she knows you're gay, Freed," Laxus reasoned, walking and keeping his eyes straight ahead. "All she knows about me is that I'm your _friend_." It came across far more bitter than he had intended.

Freed cringed. "S-sorry. I … I wasn't sure if it was okay to introduce you as a … as … well, whatever we are."

Laxus suddenly shoved Freed behind some background scenery, into a space between the framed cloth drop and the brick wall barely wide enough for two people. He slammed Freed up against the wall and kissed him roughly, thrusting his tongue in and biting Freed's lip. Then his mouth went down, just under the collar to be out of public view, and sucked up a love bite.

"L-Laxus!" Freed trembled. "N-not here!"

Laxus pulled back and glared at him. "Don't make me repeat myself again. You are my boyfriend. You're mine! If you're ashamed of that, tell me outright and I'll leave your posh little world."

"I'm not ashamed," Freed insisted. "I feel like … like it's too good to be true. Like this is just a play, the curtain will fall, and I'll be alone in the dark again." His eyes dropped to the side. "I don't want to scare you away, or claim you if you don't feel the same way."

"I don't scare easily, but I do get mad. Introduce me as _just a friend_ again, and I'll palm your dick in front of whoever you say that to."

"I got it," he breathed heavily, flushing as he thought about Laxus doing precisely that.

Laxus smirked with amusement. "Got you excited?"

"Y-yeah."

"Well, I could suck you off right here." He lightly touched the stiffness in Freed's pants. "You really are hard, you horny cocksucker. I bet you'd love it." He leaned in closer. "Right here, with your little opera buddies all around us, all this high society bullshit, and I'd suck you off until you completely fall apart. Maybe I'll wash it down with some of your family's fancy wine. Wine and cum. Sounds delectable."

"Nngh!" he trembled, trying to stay quiet, but Laxus' words were making the stiffness harden more, despite the fact that Laxus was barely touching him. "N-no. Not here."

He retreated. "I won't. I'm mad now, so you get punished. You have to wait until tonight. Oh, and clear up with your Barbie Doll friend that I'm off-limits, or else I really will thrust my tongue into your mouth while she watches."

Freed did not dare admit that part of him wanted Laxus to do that anyway. "Laxus?"

"What?" he snapped.

"Your name. I know you value your privacy, but how can you really expect me to understand that we're dating when I don't even know your last name, or your phone number, or where you live, or _anything_ personal about you?"

Laxus hesitated. He really did prefer to keep his private life hidden, yet he also felt that if there was anyone he could open up to and allow them to enter into his dark hell of a world, it was this green angel who was showing him a glimpse of gilded heaven.

"Dreyar," he said softly. "Laxus Dreyar." He reached to Freed's belt and yanked his cellphone out of its carrying case. He tapped in some information, and then thrust it back at him. "Now you can call me." Then Laxus walked off, but not before Freed saw the blush creeping up toward his ears.

Freed slipped out from behind the scenery while gazing down at his phone. There was the name: Laxus Dreyar, and after it was the number that could connect them at any time. He pressed SEND and held the phone up to his ear. Down the wing, he saw Laxus pause and pull out his cellphone.

"Yo," he said gruffly.

"I just wanted to make sure you gave me the right number."

"You're an idiot." Immediately, Laxus hung up and kept walking away.

While he was stowing his cellphone away, Mira suddenly bounced up beside Freed, holding onto his arm. She wore all Stella McCartney, from her casual and girlie blouse, to the skinny jeans that probably cost more that the average person's monthly rent. She had her hair done up, her makeup perfect, and Freed smelled a little touch of perfume wafting around her. It was far too obvious that she was dressed to impress and ready to flirt.

"Ready to go? Where's your hot friend?" she asked, looking around eagerly.

"Um, Mira," Freed said awkwardly. "Um … well, what makes you interested in Laxus?"

She looked surprised, but she thought about it. "He looks like the wild boy sort. He's got amazing muscles. He's quiet, that's easy to tell. Maybe I like the stoic-and-strong type," she guessed.

"Then you're not the only one," he said, hoping she would take a hint.

"Aww, does he have a girlfriend?" she pouted.

"N-no!"

"Oh, good! Then that means he's available."

"No!"

"But you said he's not dating anyone."

"Us," he said in an embarrassed fluster. "W-we. Him, me. We're on a date," Freed blurted out.

She blinked in confusion. "Huh? You two? Wait, are you trying to woo him? Freed, I thought you always say you don't hit on straight guys, and someone like him, he's totally straight."

"Well, he's not," Freed snapped. "Laxus is my boyfriend. This is our third date already."

"Oh poo!" she huffed. "All the cute ones are gay."

Freed chuckled. "That means you think I'm cute."

She grabbed him and rubbed her cheek against his arm. "You're definitely cute, Freed! You're the cutest, sweetest guy I know."

Suddenly, the body she was holding was yanked from her grasp. Laxus had Freed in a possessive hold, shielding him from her.

"No offense, lady," he said, trying to sound polite, yet his jealousy crackled like thunder, "but back the hell off." He looked down to Freed. "Does she need to be shown?"

"N-no!" Freed squeaked. "It's fine. Mira and I are just good friends, and she's the touchy-feely sort, that's all. It's okay, really."

"Shown what?" Mira asked curiously, smiling at the two. They had to be the most oddly matched gay couple she had ever seen.

"This," Laxus said.

He grabbed Freed, tipped him back low, and kissed him hard, tongue plunging in, hands clutching that lean body in a lewd way. Mira covered her mouth as her face went red. Stage crews going back and forth paused and looked over in shock. Someone whistled a catcall. Just as fast, Laxus raised back up and lifted Freed onto his feet. He swayed a bit, his green hair tussled and his lips swollen.

"Got it," Mira said, blushing brightly now. Scratch that thought of them being _oddly matched_. These two were the _hottest_, most passionate gay couple she had ever seen.

Freed whispered in a daze. "Don't do that again."

"You like it," Laxus smirked, and he walked away. "Let's go. I'm hungry. The lady said she's buying."

Freed straightened his clothes. "Forgive him. He's … _crude_ at times."

"You're such a studious guy, Freed. Do you really like this sort?" she asked.

Freed glanced to Laxus' retreating body. "Definitely!"

**End of Chapter 12**

* * *

_A/N: In case you're wondering, Stella McCartney jeans cost anywhere from $300 to $1100 USD. Mira is a prima donna and dresses in top brands._

_"The Marriage of Figaro" by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is a comic opera. The famous overture is used in many commercials._


	13. Can't Be Caught

Chapter 13

**Can't Be Caught**

Once again, Freed was in the South Pole Club on a Saturday night. Even after he and Laxus began dating, he returned here again and again, maybe more frequently than before, when he came only to be teased and aroused. Now he watched the show.

Or at least, he watched one man.

"Thor is on second again," Bob told him before he even had to ask.

Second. Always, he was after the club's darling prince. Yet Freed realized, that was fine. Laxus was not a stripper at heart. This was a job, not an enjoyment. He was good because he had to be to get what he wanted: clients to beat so he could get out his sadistic tendencies.

"I saw your fencing match last week. Was that Thor in the crowd?"

Freed said nothing and only sipped his chartreuse. Laxus had come to the fencing tournament, and it was just bad luck that the camera had shown a closeup of his face, watching the match with those intense blue eyes and the unique scar running down his face. Luckily, despite the fact that Bob had played it on the club's television screens, no one yet had mentioned it. He doubted if anyone was even in the club at that time of the day. Only Bob. Bob seemed to always be there, and he liked to watch his regular customer on the television.

"I won't tell," Bob said quietly. "Still, if you two are together in public … Jellal is strict about these things."

"Jellal can go to hell," Freed grumbled.

Bob sighed as he watched Freed's gaze. "You requested Thor again. I don't think you really _need_ to do that."

"I like to," Freed said. "It's nice, having him dance for me."

"Doesn't he dance for you in private?"

Freed again said nothing. He knew the club had rules about how close the dancers could get with their customers.

"Every time you come here now, you're requesting him."

"It's managing to keep his job," Freed pointed out.

"True, but you're practically his exclusive client."

Exclusive! Freed liked the sound of that.

"And now you're out with him in public. If Jellal gets a hint that Thor is becoming exclusive to a customer, he'll fire Thor."

"_Thor_ will keep dancing; it doesn't matter which club."

"Isn't that … troubling for you? Seeing him with other men?"

Freed said nothing and took another silent sip. He knew it was Laxus' job, he knew those men meant nothing to Laxus, but still…

Sometimes…

Bob glanced around to make sure no one could hear, and he dropped his voice to a confidential whisper. "Now, I like that guy, he's talented, but … why don't you tell him to leave all of this, stay with you? You've got money. You could support him."

"Support Thor?" Freed had to laugh at the idea. "A man like him would never agree to someone else supporting him." Freed knew that was just the way Laxus was: stubborn, independent, determined to make it through life by his own strength.

"Most of these dancers aren't in relationships. You and Thor are. You're even going out on dates. You should hold onto him, now that you've caught him."

Freed shook his head with a passive smile. "You can't catch someone like him. Perhaps by chance he'll strike in front of you, land in your lap, but no one can hold onto him forever. In a flash, he's gone, and all that's left is the sound of that electrical presence. A crackle. A rumble. The ominous and fading roll of thunder." He smiled up to Bob with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You can't catch the thunder."

He looked back down to his pale green drink. Laxus was right. He hated chartreuse and only ordered it to appear sophisticate. In a gulp, he swallowed all of it down and set it aside. Bob moved to the green bottle.

"No," Freed called out. "Let me try … Blue Label, neat, with a water back."

Bob's eyes widened. "That's a hell of an order. You're not into the hard stuff."

"Maybe he's changing me," Freed mused.

Bob poured the drink with the small glass of water to the side. Freed carried both glasses to his usual booth. He watched the show start, Ice Prince wowing and wooing the crowd, stripping in an instant, and finishing up only to leave the stage and go straight to Pinkie, giving him a too-affectionate dance on the lap. Freed smiled at the two. They appeared to know one another well. He wondered if Ice Prince had done a lot of private sessions for that pink-haired kid. He had heard for himself that they knew one another's real names. Were they as close as he was to the man this club knew as _Thor_? Were they also dating secretly?

The change of lights from blue to yellow took his mind off of those two. They could have their fun. Pinkie always missed Thor's dance, too distracted by his frosty stripper. That was one less pair of eyes on the burly man and his dance of seduction.

Freed realized, he had every right to be jealous. The crowd hooted and groaned at various times of Thor's stripping. He could still hammer at their groins. Instead, Freed watched his dancer and the men who ogled him with a sense of smugness. They knew only the thunder, something ephemeral. Once the song was over, like a storm cloud passing, the thunder was gone, faded from the stage and from the minds of the men in this club, who were eager for the next dancer.

Not Freed. That tempestuous dance meant a new storm was brewing, and the lightning was coming soon.

He was there in a flash, golden spiky hair, eyes that looked orange in the light of the club, a devious smile as he approached Freed, straddled him, and gazed down hard. This time, his scarred eyes glanced at the glass.

"Not your usual," he commented.

"I … I thought … maybe you could show me how to drink scotch."

Laxus chuckled. "I'm supposed to dance on your lap, bitch."

"I do believe I'm the one who purchased a full song and two-way contact."

That sly gleam in the green-haired man's eyes always amused Laxus. It made Freed different from the assholes who normally bought Laxus' time, wishing to be purely dominated. He picked up the tumbler of scotch and took a drink. Then, holding the liquid in his mouth, he kissed Freed. The liquid passed from Laxus' mouth into the waiting one. He felt Freed tense up at the burning feel of the whiskey, but Laxus trapped the swordsman's wrists down. Freed was forced to swallow, and that sense of helplessness made him stiffen up erect already.

"Very good," Laxus praised.

Freed felt like he could melt from those approving words.

"Now, chase it with water. Open your mouth."

Freed opened, tilting his head up, and Laxus poured water onto his tongue. A little dribbled down Freed's chin, slithering over his neck to his shirt.

"Bad boy. You're messy," Laxus said with a sadistic smirk. He grabbed Freed's wrists and pinned them above his head against the booth. "You get punished."

His lap dance finally began, torturing Freed's groin, arousing him with sparks of electric thrills. Freed groaned and panted as the music and the movements pounded into him. He gazed up helplessly into those eyes he now knew were blue.

"Tonight?" he asked softly.

Laxus smiled gently and touched Freed's cheek, something fleeting, unseen by the crowd, but enough to show Freed that this thunder god honestly cared for a mere mortal like him. "Sure," Laxus said in a low, gravelly whisper. "Don't get drunk on the scotch."

"Not a chance," Freed chuckled. He would rather waste the alcohol than waste a night with his thunder god. "Oh God, like that," he moaned, arching back into the booth as his hips thrust on their own.

Laxus released his bound wrists. "Grab my ass, bitch. Show me how you like to feel it."

He blushed in humiliation, but he reached around those leather pants to pull Laxus close against him. Laxus stopped moving, forcing Freed to shift his butt, pulling and moving Laxus to where he wanted to feel it. He liked to feel that thick length slide up over him, especially as he felt Laxus slowly hardening. Then he liked a little side-to-side, like two swords battling one another. Then a tight thrust up against him. It was embarrassing to be this assertive in the middle of the strip club, with others watching them, and that shamed feeling made his heart race.

"The song's too fast," Laxus complained.

"Would you rather have Barry White?" Freed teased.

"Considering you only bought one song, I'd rather have _In A Gadda Da Vida_."

"That would be an awesome song to make out to."

"I could probably make you come twice before the drum solo finishes," Laxus teased.

"Nnngh, probably could. Sh-shit!"

Just when Freed thought he could not take more, Laxus backed off. He was in tune with his swordsman now. They had done this many times, and Laxus was good at judging how much Freed could withstand.

"You're still too much," Freed groaned, knowing his issue meant these dances always were brief.

"You're getting better. Maybe you're used to me already," he teased with a sarcastic smile.

"A thousand dances couldn't make me used to you," Freed smiled in adoration. "I just might have to buy another dance tonight."

"Oh?" Laxus chuckled. "Feeling that generous."

"Jealous," he corrected. "There's a man to the side who has been staring at you this whole time."

Laxus glanced over briefly. "Damn. A client," he explained. "He probably wants me to beat the shit out of him again."

"Do you … _need_ that?" Freed asked hesitantly.

Laxus' brow wrinkled. "Who knows?" he muttered.

Freed sighed and looked aside with a pinched forehead. This was just part of being with the thunder god. Everyone saw the brilliant flash of lightning, and he could not stop that dangerous roll of thunder from rumbling over the landscape. "Deal with him first. Meet me tomorrow. You're off work, right? We could spend the day together."

"Hey now! You asked first. That bastard can wait."

"That old man probably doesn't have much free time to come here. If you need it, I'd rather you get the worst of it out of your system first."

Laxus barked a laugh. "Why? So I can be gentle with you?"

Freed felt his face flush and dropped his head. "I don't know if I'd want _gentle_."

Laxus softly touched his cheek again. "We could try it."

His eyes swung up in shock. "Wh-what?"

"We could try _gentle_. Try _more_."

"M-more?" he gasped. "You mean…"

Was Laxus offering … _that_? Actual sex? Not just bondage and toys and blow jobs, but actually … doing … _that_?

The blond gave a mild shrug, but by the way his jaw tensed and relaxed in a slight tick, Freed knew Laxus felt nervous about taking this huge step. "It's an offer. Would you wanna?"

"Yes!" he cried out eagerly.

"Easy there," Laxus smiled, petting down the green hair. "For our first time, I don't want some random hotel. I want a place where you'll always remember it."

"Your flat…"

"Your dorm," Laxus said at the precise same time.

"W-w-wait! My dorm?" Freed shouted.

"Shh," he hushed with a stern look. They could not let others in the club know about this. "If we do it, I want it to be in your own bed."

"But it's a college dormitory, La- … uh, Thor. Dorms are _not_ the most private locations. The walls are paper thin. I can hear my upstairs neighbor taking a leak!"

"Oh really?" Laxus chuckled slyly. "Even better." He scratched a fingernail across Freed's lip. "A building full of your frat buddies, and all of them will get to listen in as I break that virgin ass of yours in your own goddamn bed!"

Freed jolted and reached down, really feeling like he might come from just the thought of how erotic and humiliating that would be. As curious as he was about what sort of place Laxus lived in, maybe it was really a crummy apartment in a dangerous neighborhood. The dorm was safe, people in it were generally non-intrusive, and it really would be fun to kick Loke out for a change.

"I'll probably be late with this bastard," Laxus said, using his eyes to point over to the old man staring at them. "He does things slowly, tends to take until morning before he finally…"

"I told you before, _never_ tell me about your clients."

Laxus froze at the angered snap and the jealousy in those normally fawning eyes. "Sorry," he conceded. "Just sayin', don't call me in the morning. I'll probably sleep in past noon. Chase that roommate of yours out before five o'clock." Then he climbed off Freed's lap as the song ended. "I'll see you then, Greenie. Try not to jizz as you think about it. Oh, and don't fap tonight. I want you built up for tomorrow."

"Shit," he cringed. He was so hard, he had been prepared to rush off to the restrooms to rub one out.

"Don't!" Laxus said with a final order. Then he turned and walked away backstage.

Freed was left with his mouth hanging open and his dick throbbing. He rubbed out his head and took another drink of the scotch, trying to calm himself down.

As Lyon began to dance, Freed stood, took his drink, and left the seating area. He walked back to the bar, away from the hooting oglers and pounding music. He sat in front of Bob, numbed and staring at the glass of whiskey.

Blue Label. Blue like Laxus' eyes. Blue eyes no one in this club saw, not with the lights that turned those eyes predatory orange. It was a blue that only Freed saw.

Freed stared at the golden drink. Gold like lightning, like blond hair. Yellow hair, blue eyes. It was a strong, hard drink, much like that tattooed body. As he sipped the drink, it burned, tingled, electrified like lightning. Yet as he chased it with the water, the flavor suddenly burst open, the harshness soothed away, and a truly wonderful experience tingled on his tongue, complex, powerful, overwhelming him.

No wonder Laxus liked this drink.

"Something wrong?" Bob asked in concern.

Freed laughed to himself as he held the scotch whiskey at eye level and swirled it. "Bob, I may have just managed to catch the thunder."

**End of Chapter 13**

* * *

_A/N: This chapter mentions "In A Gadda Da Vida" by Iron Butterfly, famous for being a 17-minute song. It features a 2 1/2 minute drum solo that lasts up to the 9th minute of the song. So Laxus teases that he could get Freed off twice in 9 minutes. Considering that, in this story, Freed has issues with premature ejaculation, he probably really could. Oh, and for legal reasons, I have to say "I do not own this song or make money off of it, blah blah."_


	14. First and Only

Chapter 14

**First and Only**

"Loke," Freed griped, "I really do need you to leave."

"And I said I wanna meet your boyfriend," the ginger roommate insisted. "You meet most of my girlfriends."

"Never by choice," Freed grumbled.

Loke leaned back in his bed with a smirk. "So, are you two gonna _do it_?"

Freed blushed brightly. That had been the plan. Just that morning, he had called Laxus, warning him again that a university dormitory was _not_ the most private location. Laxus seemed even more insistent as he heard the panic in Freed's voice.

Loke sighed when he saw the red face. "Just keep your jizz to your side of the room, got it?"

Freed swirled around at him. "Like you're one to talk!"

There was a thumping knock, and Freed squeaked. Loke leaped out of the bed with the grace of a wild cat, and before Freed could protest, he opened the door…

… and looked way up.

"Tall," Loke muttered.

Cold, blue eyes glared down. "You must be the roomie."

"Loke," the ginger grinned thrusting a hand out. "I wanted to see who got my roomie all smitten." He glanced back to Freed. "Are you sure he's okay? He looks like he needs a rabies shot."

"Out!" Freed shouted.

Loke looked up to Laxus again. "Freed's a good friend. Don't you dare hurt him, got it? Now, I'll leave you two. Beer's in the fridge, extra condoms are in my top drawer, in case you need one for a second go."

"Shoo! Shoo!" Freed snapped.

"I'm not a cat, sheesh." Loke yanked on a fur-lined coat. "Two A.M. when the bars close, Freed. He's gone or you're both asleep. No boinking each other while I'm sleeping, either." Then with a wave, he left.

"Well, ain't he just a load of fucking sunshine," Laxus grumbled.

"At least you've met now," Freed sighed. "I'm sorry, I've been trying to shove him out for a hour."

"It's fine. He's not drop-dead handsome, though."

"Huh? Oh! Well, he's not bad looking," Freed said in Loke's defense, but Laxus glared down. "But he's not gay, so … totally not interested. I don't even fantasize over guys who aren't gay or bi."

Laxus glanced around the dorm room. It was smaller than he imagined, even smaller than his apartment. He wondered how two college boys could live in such confined quarters.

"I figured a spoiled rich boy like you would be use to something more … spacious," he muttered.

"Well, it took a lot of adjusting when I first moved in," Freed admitted. "That's Loke's side. Don't touch his stuff. He's really good at giving me my privacy, so I wouldn't want to be a bad roommate in return."

"Not interested in his crap," Laxus muttered. "Nice computer. That's the latest, right? I've only seen TV commercials about it."

"Yeah, um … so, I got supplies. Ah, here!" he pulled a box out from under his bed. Inside was a collection of things they had bought together, included the elctrostim butt plug from their first night. "Uh, lube, condom … I don't know what else you'd want. How did you want to…?"

"Don't question it," Laxus warned him. "We'll warm up to it. I want to be here with you first." He walked up to Freed and held his cheek. "I want to make this feel natural. In a hotel, it's a fantasy, it's not part of the real world. Here, in the bed where you sleep every night, it'll be real for you. It'll be more special. You'll remember it every night before falling asleep."

"I'd remember anyway," Freed sighed, cradling his face down into Laxus' large, warm hand.

Laxus leaned over and kissed him. He was partly hoping that Freed's low moans would affect him like they always did, but Laxus really was nervous about this. That fear was making it a challenge to get aroused.

"So, how's school?" he asked, stepping away and looking around some more. He needed to calm himself.

"Uh, it's good," Freed said awkwardly.

He put the box of supplies away, leaving out only the lube and condom to sit on his nightstand. Why was Laxus putting this off? The blond walked over to Freed's desk, and he began to drum his fingers nervously. Freed watched, surprised to see agitation in the usually implacable man.

"I'm passing all of my classes," he said, hoping that if he kept talking maybe Laxus would feel more at ease. "Midterms are coming up for the fall semester. I've been studying, mostly."

"That's good," Laxus said. He looked down at the books piled on the desk. _Economic Aspects and Ethics of Business._ Sounded boring as hell. His eyes drifted over the desk and eventually landed on a framed photograph sitting on the edge. "Is this your family?"

"Yep! My parents, me, the tall one with his tongue out is Bickslow, and that's my sister, Evergreen."

"You guys look like a normal family."

"I think we mostly are, when my parents aren't being assholes."

He glanced aside, barely looking at the photo, and sought out the next thing he could talk about.

Freed twisted his hands together. "So … um … you mentioned once that you lived with your grandfather while growing up. Is he still alive?"

"Somehow he manages to keep kicking."

"That's good. I've lost all of my grandparents, Mother's side to a car accident before I was born, Dad's side … well, it made news," he said wryly. "She offed him for the money, got caught, killed herself before police could take her."

"Damn!" Laxus exclaimed. "Your family's as fucked up as mine."

"My parents are cool. They kinda do the whole rich-person thing, though: parties, charity balls, always flying around the world for conventions in their fields."

"What do they do?" Laxus asked.

They spent ten minutes talking about Freed's family while Laxus helped himself to a beer to calm his nerves. Freed told him stories about his childhood, especially the trouble he got into with his two siblings.

"And so, there we were," Freed laughed, "Evergreen pretending she's Tinkerbell and swinging from the chandeliers with fairy wings on her back, I was Peter Pan brandishing a sword—a real one I pulled off the wall, mind you—while Bickslow suddenly went sliding down the staircase on a serving platter with his arms ahead like he's the tic-toc crocodile, screaming at the top of his lungs, '_Baaaabies!_' He went skidding right past the buffet table and crashed into the cake. It went splattering everywhere, and he broke his arm. We totally ruined their dinner party, but it was the craziest thing anyone had ever seen." He laughed, and Laxus smiled as he tried to imagine it.

"You three must have been an unholy terror on your parents."

"Probably," he admitted with a sheepish shrug.

"It's cute." Laxus guzzled back the last of his beer and set the bottle aside. "You had a fun childhood. I'm envious."

"Oh! Uh, sorry."

"No." Laxus leaned in close. "I can lose myself in thoughts of your past." He gave Freed a kiss. "And I keep dreaming of our future." He kissed him harder, threading his fingers through the long, green hair and giving it an erotic pull. "But what I want," he said, and he slowly pressed Freed backwards, "is right now in the present."

"Laxus," Freed said with awe.

"Sorry if I was nervous."

"I was, too."

"Better now?"

Freed nodded.

"Good. Now … make me hard."

He kissed him fiercely and pressed his body against Freed. The bed was narrow, but Laxus stayed right above him, feeling the pale skin and shifting to get limbs sorted out. Freed spread both legs around Laxus' body, leaving himself wide open to him.

"Nnngh! Laxus," Freed suddenly groaned as the thunder god brushed up against his groin.

"Oh?" Laxus smirked. "You're just raring to go, aren't you, you little slut?" He let his groin rub up against the arousal. "You're totally rock hard." Laxus thrust up against him again, and a long, drawling moan shivered out. "Damn, you really do something to me."

Laxus threw his shirt off, and Freed scrambled out of his clothes. They were breathing hard already, nervous with the anticipation of what they were about to do.

"Gentle the first time," Laxus said softly. "I don't want it to hurt … yet."

Freed chuckled at the threat at the end.

"Besides…" Laxus leaned over and whispered hotly into his ear while his fingers toyed with Freed's nipple. "If you're too loud, someone will hear you." He suddenly pinched hard.

Freed cried out and arched up, trembling at the touch.

"There are people all around this dormitory," Laxus teased sensually. "Do you want them to hear your sexy voice?"

"Nnngh … n-no," he whimpered.

"That's why I'll be gentle." Laxus leaned over and lapped at the stiffening nipple, right over where he pinched. "Gentle, so you had better be quiet."

"Y-yes, master."

"No!" Laxus loomed up instantly. "No master and slave here. Not in the real world. In the club, or in a hotel, fine, but not here." He leaned over and kissed Freed. "Here, you're not my slave." His mouth worked down his neck. "I don't want to fuck a slave. I want to make love to my boyfriend. Got it?"

"Y-yeah," Freed gasped. He suddenly felt pain on the side of his neck. "Ahhh!" The love bite was high up. There would be no way to cover it. Laxus was marking him for the whole world to see.

"Did you prepare yourself beforehand?"

"Yes, how you taught me."

"Good." Laxus licked his finger and lowered it to Freed's hole. "Keep quiet," he whispered, and he nudged the finger in.

Freed's mouth tightened, and his body arched up at the feel.

"You're so smooth inside." Laxus kissed Freed's chest and began to move down lower. "So smooth and tight."

Freed heard a rowdy group of college boys moving down the hall. He covered his mouth with both hands, trying to mute the whimpers. Of course, if anyone heard just him, they would assume he merely had a hot night with some girl. Still, it was humiliating, having sex in a place where his classmates could overhear him.

"Such restraint," Laxus chuckled. He suddenly dived down and swallowed Freed's arousal, pounding it to the back of his throat hard and fast.

Freed arched up with a loud cry. "Oh God, your mouth!"

Outside, he heard one guy laughing. "She must be a pro. Damn lucky guy!"

Laxus pulled back and gazed down. Freed looked utterly mortified, and that expression was sweet to the sadist. "Noisy bitch," he whispered playfully. "I'll have to silence you." He pulled back off of Freed's body. "Stand!"

Shaking, Freed unsteadily rose to his feet.

"Undo my pants," he ordered.

His hands were trembling, but he unthreaded the belt, lowered the zipper, and tugged the pants down to Laxus' ankles. He stepped out of them and sat on the bed.

"Kneel."

Freed practically collapsed to his knees before his thunder god. Laxus spread his legs and stroked up his arousal with a sly gleam in his eyes.

"Lick it, you cocksucker."

Freed hesitantly leaned forward. He realized, he forgot to lock the door. If someone burst through now, it would be completely obvious: two naked men, one sucking off the other. Still, he lapped up the shaft, twirled his tongue about, then lowered down, taking Laxus into his mouth.

"Yes, like that," Laxus whispered, stroking the green hair. "Oh God, you're so good. You get me so aroused, you and your slutty mouth."

Freed groaned as he sucked more, bobbing up and down.

"You're the only person in the world who does this to me," Laxus told him. "No one else. I only want or need you, Freed. I … need you. So much. Fuck you, but you made me addicted."

Freed smiled around the cock. Only him! All those clients, but none of them mattered to Laxus. They were contracts, customers, holding no emotional attachment to him. Only him!

"Shit, I need you!" He yanked Freed's head up, making his mouth pop off. "Now! Lie down."

Freed obediently laid on the bed and gazed up. Laxus reached over to the condom.

"You don't need that," Freed said quickly. "If … if you don't want to, that is."

Laxus looked down in shock. "But…"

"You're tested all the time by the club, right?" he reasoned. "And you're careful with clients, and we're both virgins. If you want … y-you don't need to use it. Um, only if you want though. If you would rather use it, that's fine, too."

Laxus' eyes softened. "Is that what you want?"

Freed bit his lip and looked aside bashfully. He nodded as his face turned red.

Laxus set the condom packet back down. "It'll be a messy cleanup."

"That's fine," he whispered. "At least the first time, I want to feel you. Just you."

Laxus stroked back the green hair. "If that's what you want. Like this, or dog style?"

"Facing you," Freed requested. "I … wanna watch your face."

"You're always a romantic," Laxus sighed. "Hold on. Don't you dare move." He climbed off the bed, walked over to the desk, and woke up Freed's computer. "Password?"

"Uh … _Raijinshuu_."

"What the hell?"

"Japanese."

"Your safe word is French and your computer's password is Japanese? Are you aiming for a job with the fucking United Nations?" He typed the word in, with Freed spelling it. Laxus quickly opened up iTunes and smiled. "Awesome, you have it." He clicked on a song, and Freed heard an organ starting up. Laxus cranked the volume up.

"Oh God," Freed laughed.

Laxus turned around as drums and rocking guitars kicked in, and he began a small dance. Then as the lyrics began to play, he sang along to them. "In a gadda da vida, honey. Don't you know that I love you? In a gadda da vida, baby. Don't you know that I'll always be true?"

Freed was laughing at the dance and gruff singing. Getting serenaded by _In A Gadda Da Vida_ would probably top his list of silliest things to do during sex.

"Twice before the drum solo, right?" Laxus smirked.

"No." Freed gazed up at him adoringly. "Put it on repeat. Make it last until the song plays twice."

"That's over half an hour."

"I want it to last that long," he whispered.

"Then … one second."

Laxus went back and clicked a button to put the song on repeat. Then he went back and pounced on the bed. He grinned ferally and stroked back Freed's hair. He leaned over, kissed him firmly, and smiled.

"Gentle," he assured. "Half an hour."

"Thirty-four minutes," Freed corrected. "It's a seventeen minute song."

"Now you're being a brat." Laxus had to chuckle, though. The longer it lasted, the better. He took the bottle of lube and drizzled it copiously onto his arousal. "Ready?"

He nodded breathlessly.

"Do you need more stretching?"

"Just do it, please," Freed shuddered. They were really about to do this, and his heart was racing with fear and desire.

"Knees up."

Freed pulled his knees to his chest, exposing himself.

"Oh, won't you come with me," Laxus whispered, while Doug Ingle sang the line. "And take my hand," he said gently while the song rocked out the lyrics. He threaded his fingers into Freed's. His blue eyes gazed down with worry and tenderness. "Oh, won't you come with me, and walk this land? Please take my hand."

"Seriously, stop singing," Freed teased.

"Hey, I'm tryin' to be romantic here."

"Be Laxus," Freed encouraged. "That's who I love."

Laxus' mouth dropped. "Say that again."

"I haven't yet, have I?"

"No, you haven't."

Freed caressed Laxus' cheek. "I love you."

Tears gathered in those blue eyes, and suddenly Laxus dived down to kiss him, hiding his overwhelmed face. His mouth stayed right over Freed's as he shifted his hips forward, slowly pressing in.

"Mmh … _mmmnnngh!_" Freed's hands clenched in pain, but Laxus' large fingers were there to accept the struggle. Freed felt that thick arousal opening him, slowly, patiently. Laxus refused to uncover his mouth, muting the cries. Freed trembled. He was used to the butt plug they had used, but this was more, wider, and there was no divot that allowed him to shrink back and relax. Instead, as Laxus pressed in, it only got thicker.

"Wait, wait," he cried out.

Laxus froze. He felt like he was barely in, but he could feel those lithe hands trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking back the green hair. "A big oaf like me as your first is probably not best."

"It's fine," Freed insisted. "Just … need to get used to it. Kiss me."

Laxus kissed his lips, his cheeks, and licked away the tears dripping from his eyes. He kissed his forehead, his hair, his ears, and then back to his lips. He wanted to kiss him everywhere, if it would ease this initial pain.

"Freed?"

"A moment," he said, breathing too regularly as he tried to relax.

Then from out in the hallway, they heard a shout. "Awesome song, dude!"

Freed jolted. Shit, there were people _all around him_! "Uh, thanks," he yelled back awkwardly.

Laxus chuckled. "That's just fucking hilarious."

"What?"

"Your face. Shit, you're a comical guy." He leaned down until their noses touched. "How about we give them a better song?" He pressed more into Freed's ass, and the smaller man moaned out loudly.

Outside the door, they heard the same guy laughing. "So _that's_ why the music is so loud. Lucky bastard."

"Yeah." Laxus' eyes glinted down to Freed with sadistic satisfaction. "Lucky bastard."

"Laxus," Freed whispered. "More."

He eased in deeper, deeper, and it was like Freed was just sucking him in now. The soft mewls under him drove him on as he gritted his teeth and pressed until he was flush up against him.

"Holy shit, that feels amazing," Laxus exclaimed softly.

"Do you … like it?" Freed asked, flushed and sweaty already.

Laxus' large hand stroked his cheek. "It's you. Of course I like it."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You're so tight, I really don't think I can last thirty minutes. Fuck, I feel like I'd be lucky to last through the drum solo."

"Try," Freed pleaded. "Try to make it last."

Laxus was shocked, but then he chuckled with a tender smile. "Seriously, how can I resist you when you beg like that?"

He pulled back, then slowly pressed in again. There was still a little pain in Freed's face, but nowhere near as bad. Then back out, and the third time thrusting in, Freed's mouth gaped with pure pleasure.

"Oh God!"

"You are seriously loud for a college dorm room."

"I don't even care anymore," he shouted.

"Heh! Fine."

Laxus thrust hard, and Freed trembled with an echoing shout.

"Okay, you are seriously loud. If some fucker knocks on that door and demands to be let in to see why you're screaming, I might kill a bitch for interrupting me."

"No! God, don't stop," he shouted even louder.

That was definitely unnaturally loud. "Freed?"

"Fuck my ass harder."

Laxus heard outside the door. "Whoa, totally gay! Must be that homo Senior with the green hair."

He smirked down at Freed. "You brilliant little pervert." Now the whole dorm would know Freed was getting some gay sex. They would definitely leave the two alone.

"They already know about me," he reasoned. "I'll let them know how good it can feel."

"Same as me and the strip club."

"Yeah, but you don't have to live with these assholes making gay jokes about you all the time."

"Fine. Then let them be jealous." Laxus slammed in fully.

"Aaaah!"

Laxus thrust in harder, again and again. "I wanna make them so hard listening to you squeal like a pig in heat…"

"Nngh … ahh … oh God!"

"… that every one of the bastards in this dorm will be fapping to your cries. Make them horny, Freed," he ordered. "Show them how good I make you feel."

"Nnngh! Oh God, so good. So … aaahn!"

"Shit, you really are a slut."

"Laxus!"

"Don't yell my name too loud. I doubt these frat boys would know me, but I don't like it."

"Master!"

"Oh fuck," Laxus shuddered. He had figured it would be more romantic to do this as boyfriends, not as slave and master. However, hearing Freed call him that, while thrusting into him, was too much. His hips slammed in hard, suddenly pounding with urgency.

"Fuck, fuck, no, fuck!"

Despite his shouts, Laxus suddenly came. As he pulsed out, he gritted his teeth and lowered his head in deep shame.

"Laxus?" Freed took the tense face in his hands. "Laxus, turn your head up."

Laxus shuddered and shook his head. "Goddammit, I didn't want to come this soon."

"Please, look at me, master."

Laxus looked into those eyes with sorrow. Suddenly, Freed's lips were on his with eagerness and the arms squeezed him close. The blue eyes widened in surprise. He was afraid Freed might be disappointed that it ended so soon, or tease him for coming for such a silly reason. Instead, he felt Freed trembling in jolts. He realized there was something hot and wet on his stomach, and as he pulled back, he saw that Freed had cum dripping from his cock.

Freed look exhausted but happy. "I … I never would have made it past the drum solo," he admitted, shuddering wearily.

Laxus laughed and rubbed his nose against Freed's. "You idiot."

They suddenly heard a knock on the side wall. "Is that all? Dude, I was just getting some major fap time with you two."

Freed and Laxus laughed, and both blushed slightly. "Next show is in thirty minutes," Laxus shouted over to the neighbor.

"Damn. It better be worth my blue balls."

"Che! Who the hell is that?" Laxus asked.

"Neighbor named Toby Horhorta. Maybe we should wash up before we do more."

Laxus collapsed on top of him. "Nope. Tired. I'm sleeping like this."

Freed squirmed under the weight. "Laxus, you will seriously suffocate me."

"Don't wanna pull out."

"You sound like a kid."

"Fuck you."

"A potty-mouthed kid."

"Poopy head."

Immediately, they both burst into laughs. Laxus pushed himself up and sleepily gazed down at him.

"We're both idiots, aren't we?"

Freed sighed as he looked up at the eyes that were still a little sorrowful. "It was our first time. It's not that surprising that it didn't last long. Next time, though."

"Next time," Laxus repeated, happy to think that they could share this as often as they wanted now. "Nap first."

"Cleanup first. Your cum will leak out of my ass."

"Mmmm. Let it."

"Not on these sheets, I won't! They're satin."

"You sound like a spoiled rich boy."

"I am one," Freed smirked, "but you're the one spoiling me."

"Damn you for being this romantic." He gave Freed another kiss. "My first." He sensually kissed him again. "My only." He leaned down and kissed longer, letting his tongue play around Freed's mouth.

"Mmmnnh!" Freed moaned happily at the kiss. Suddenly, his eyes widened. Laxus was still inside him, and he was quickly getting hard.

"Are you okay for more?" Laxus asked in a low whisper.

"I might not come again this soon."

"Even better." Laxus pressed in. "Damn, I can feel my cum lubing you up inside. Sorry about your sheets, but they're gonna get fucking messy." He slammed in.

"Aaaah!"

The neighbor shouted through the wall. "Hell of a recovery, bro! Fuck yeah!"

"Damn horny dog," Laxus laughed. Then he grinned down at Freed. "Let's give him a good encore."

**End of Chapter 14**

* * *

_A/N: __Once again, "In A Gadda Da Vida" by Iron Butterfly was featured in this chapter, and I don't own it.__ Video: **youtu =dot= be/UIVe-rZBcm4**_

_____If you want to listen to the audio I made, including how the scene fits in with the song, it's here: _**chirb =dot= it/sPagpf**


	15. You Really Don't Want to Know

Chapter 15

**You Really Don't Want to Know**

Laxus woke up to see it was dark outside. He glanced over at the clock. Only nine. They had done it not just through two replays of _In A Gadda Da Vida_, but through three, with their third time being the slow, sensual, gentle lovemaking Laxus had initially wanted. Neither came the third time. They made love until they tired out.

Curled up tight beside him on the narrow bed was Freed, practically smashed against the wall but looking happy to be by Laxus' side. The blond smiled down at his lover and stroked back his hair.

"You really are something, Greenie," he whispered.

Gently, to not disturb Freed too much, Laxus shifted out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. He relieved himself, then pulled on his clothes. He wanted to let Freed rest as much as he needed, especially after such an experience. He sincerely hoped it had not hurt too badly.

"I wonder how you do this to me," he sighed.

Laxus looked around the dorm room some more. How might it have been if he had gone to a university? It wasn't like his family could not afford it. He just never had an interest. He supposed it was not too late to learn. Still, what sort of field could he study? He doubted if there was a major in professional sadism. Maybe he could do something with what he had learned as an electrician, before he discovered that he made more money stripping.

Loke's desk was slightly messy, while Freed's was impeccably tidy. Of course, he might have straightened up before Laxus arrived. He wondered how it looked on a normal day. Was he always tidy? Did his desk get all cluttered up with reports and class notes?

He saw the family photo on the desk again. Freed looked younger in the picture, his hair shorter. He had an enigmatic smile. His sister looked like she was trying too hard to be a model, posing with her lips out in a duck face. The brother looked like a total idiot with his tongue hanging out and hair spiked out. There was also something about his eyes…

"A family. Siblings. Two parents— Wait." He snatched the frame up to take a closer look. "Is that your father?" Laxus cried out, gawking at the photo.

Freed sleepily opened his eyes. "Huh?"

"The guy in this picture. Is _he_ your father?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Laxus set the frame down so hard, it fell over, hiding the picture. He turned away from the desk with a disturbed face. "Nothing. It's … it's nothing." His hand went up, covering his mouth as his brow tightened. "Shit. Not him. Anyone but him."

"Laxus?" Freed woke up more and raised up stiffly, slightly pained. He shifted his hips as he felt the lingering ache. "What is it? Do you know my dad?"

His blue eyes hardened. "Yeah, I do."

"How?"

His lips curled up in disgust. "You really don't want to know."

"Why not? How could you…? Oh," Freed whispered, and he collapsed back into the bed in shock. "Oh … oh God. You don't mean…" He could not bring himself to say it.

"Yeah," Laxus muttered, looking disturbed and angry.

"He's one of your … no way! That's a sick joke. My dad, a client of yours? That's not even funny." He waited, hoping Laxus would smile and say sorry for joking about something so inappropriate. Instead, the blond looked nervous. "Laxus? You … you're joking, right? There's no way you could know him. My dad … he … he isn't…" Still, Laxus was not denying it. His back was to Freed, and his fists were clenched to keep them from shaking. Something surged up in Freed's stomach, and he choked it back down. "You're wrong!" he screamed.

"I hope to God I'm wrong. Please tell me he has a twin brother, lookalike cousin … something!" he shouted desperately.

"N-no. None that look like him. This can't … you…" He whispered is disbelief, "No way. Could you just be wrong? Turn on the light. Maybe it's just too dark."

Laxus sighed, flipped the main lights on, and walked back to the fallen frame. Reluctantly, he picked it up and took a close look at the happy family, the man with brown hair, the lady with her green hair up in a prim bun, and the three children. It was obviously taken some years ago, but although Freed looked different in the photo, the man was exactly the same.

"Dammit. It's definitely him."

"No!" Freed cried out, shivering and struggling not to cry. "My dad's not like that. He's not! He's so serious all the time. He runs the company, and he's always there for family dinners. He and my mother go to church every Sunday. Hell, when I came out as being gay, he was furious. There's no way he … no … no way. That's just not him. He's not like that." Freed blinked away tears and shook his head, cringing down as acid churned in his stomach. "Not him. Not Dad."

"Justine," Laxus muttered. "That's your surname, right? Mister Justine. Dammit, I never pieced it together."

"How could you not?" Freed shouted. "It's not like we have a common last name."

"I don't give a fuck who I beat up," he yelled back. "Half the time, I don't know their names, don't care. They give me cash, I do what they say, and I go. I barely look at their faces. But … Justine. Shit. Of all the goddamn people."

Furiously, Freed yelled, "You fucked my father?"

"I did _not_ fuck him. I don't fuck clients."

"You … did that … did _stuff_ … on my dad?"

Laxus folded his arms and looked at the door. "I shouldn't have said anything. This is _not _how I wanted this night to end."

"You've seen … _it_. My dad's … you and my dad … oh God, I'm gonna be sick." He covered his mouth as acid bubbled up.

Laxus suddenly grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Freed looked up in shock at the man's rapid departure.

"Laxus!" He forced his stomach back down. "W-wait!"

He rose from the bed but realized he was naked. Hurriedly, he wrapped a robe around him, then ran out of the room and down the hall, where Laxus was stomping as fast as he could without blatantly running. Just before he reached the elevator, Freed grabbed him.

"Don't you _dare_ run away! We should … talk," he said, panting from the shock and racing after Laxus. His ass hurt too badly to be running. "We need to talk about this."

"What's to talk about?" Laxus growled. "Things are gonna be too weird now, right? You're gonna wanna break up with me anyway, so why stick around and punish myself?"

"No one said anything about breaking up," Freed yelled. Someone else from the dormitory walked by and muttered to himself, "_Gaaaaay!_" Freed growled at the student, but he dropped his voice to be polite. "We really do need to talk."

"Why? If I talk, you'll find out the truth and break up with me. If I leave now, you can keep thinking your dad is the perfect father you imagine him to be. You can convince yourself that maybe the man I know is a cousin, or a distant relative. Hell, it might be, for all I know."

"If I don't hear the truth directly from you, I'll never be able to trust my father again. I could never bring it up to him, so I'd be left with doubts, maybe even hatred. I don't want that! I want to know the truth. I … I _need_ to know."

Laxus glared down at him and hissed out a whisper. "His name's Llewellyn, right?" He saw Freed's mouth drop. "I was afraid so. You want the truth? Your father hires me to be his Dom. There. You can hate him, curse me, whatever. Do you really want to know more? Can you even look me in the eye when you realize that I've spanked your father into submission, that I've done to him some of the same things I do to you?"

Freed dropped his head and gulped down a surge in his stomach. "It makes the issue more personal, but … but I already knew you do this sort of thing. I _knew_ that, and I thought I could accept it. Maybe I still can, although it's gonna be hell come Christmas."

Laxus had to snort out a laugh. "Yeah, good thing I realized this now. It would have been awkward as hell if I went to your house for the holidays and met your dad there."

"Laxus," Freed whispered, "I don't want you to leave. I want to talk. Then I'll make my decision."

"Decision?" Laxus asked softly.

"If I can handle this, or if I need to kick you out of my life before we … go any further with this."

His ass hurt, and it reminded him of how sweet their time together had been. The pain smoldered and forged into love, making him not want to give up on this man, even if his mind was having a hard time coming to grips with this revelation.

"I need to know what I'm dealing with," Freed begged. "At the very least, I deserve your honesty, and a dorm hallway is _not_ the best location to be discussing this. Please, come back to the room."

Laxus looked again to the elevator door. Every nerve in him said to bolt now before his heart got broken. However, if there was absolutely any hope of staying with Freed and making this relationship work, he wanted to bet on it.

"Fine, we'll talk," he said.

"Thank you," Freed sighed. He turned and walked back to his room, but he realized already that he could not look Laxus in the eyes. Even while begging him to stay, he could not look right at him, and his stomach still felt nauseous.

They went to the room, and Freed locked the door. He slowly sat on his bed, still aching a bit, and Laxus took the computer desk chair. They sat in silence with a party down the hall thumping away music.

"So … my dad," Freed said timidly. "Um, how long has he been a … a … a client?"

"I honestly don't know. Over three years."

Freed gulped hard and cringed. That was a lot longer than he ever imagined. "How often?"

"Once a month. It's a fixed date."

"And … what does he make you do?"

"Let me clear up one thing. No one _makes_ me do anything. They list requests, I pick which ones I'm willing to grant. I'm not forced. I am _nobody's_ sex slave."

"Got it, sorry. So, what does he _request_?"

"Do you really wanna know the details?"

"How about generalizations?" Freed decided, not sure if he really wanted to know graphic depictions of his father's debauchery.

"Restraints, paddling, flogging, he has a thing for wax play."

"Do you … jerk him off?"

"I don't need to."

"What do you mean?"

Laxus folded his arms. "If I tell you, you're green little head is gonna explode."

Freed arched an eyebrow.

Seeing that he still wanted to know, Laxus shrugged. "Your father is a _special case_. I'm not the means to an end. I'm a setup."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Llewellyn is a masochist. Your mother—what's her name again?"

"Mom? Liberty."

"Right, I knew it was a weird name like yours. I feel like shit called her _your mo__ther_, so I'll use her name. Liberty hasn't got a sadistic bone in her body. _She_ was actually the one who contacted me. I have no fucking clue how she heard about me, but trust me, I was shocked as hell to get propositioned by a woman _for her husband_."

"Mom!" Freed bellowed. "My mother … asked you … to do that for Dad?"

"I never asked for details. I honestly don't wanna know the drama bullshit. However, it seems the issue with Llewellyn is one that led to … problems."

"Prob- …" Freed cut off sharply. "Those rumors back in high school that Dad was having an affair. Us kids never believed it, of course. I mean, it's Dad! The guy's too busy for his own family sometimes, let alone having an affair on the side. The rumors never even went anywhere because Mom said she hired a private investigator and found out he was loyal."

"More like he was forced to be loyal _after_ she hired a P.I. to tail him, then struck a deal with him not to hit up fetish clubs if she'd hire a professional to take care of his needs. She was willing to work with him on one condition: Llewellyn's dominant absolutely had to be male. That's where I came in. Llewellyn agreed to the deal, Liberty probably cleaned up any loose ends, no one had to know the truth, their marriage didn't have to crumble."

"So, you go to _my house_?" Freed asked incredulously.

"I get picked up in a car with blacked-out windows. I get that a lot, actually. I'm taken to an underground garage and led through some halls to a playroom."

"Playroom?" Freed asked sharply.

"Like sex play."

"There's _nothing_ like that in my parents' house," he protested.

"Might not be their house. I honestly don't know. I go there, Llewellyn is waiting, and Liberty is usually in the room."

"Mom … watches?" Freed gawked.

"At first, I assumed she was a voyeur and liked that sort of thing. However, it became apparent that she was only there to make sure Llewellyn obeyed their rules. He is allowed only certain things. He can be restrained pretty much in any way he desires—and he's a creative guy—and he can be touched with inanimate objects. However, Liberty is a harridan at making sure I do not physically touch him. To be honest, it's the best setup out of all of my clients. I go, I beat him, I take the money, I leave. He's left aroused as hell, and that's when Liberty takes over. Llewellyn apparently can't get hard unless he's beaten into submission first. I take off, leave them to do whatever the fuck they want, and that's it."

Freed stared down in shock. "They've been doing this for … for three years?"

"Llewellyn Justine is one of my oldest and most steady clients."

"I was still in high school. You were in my house—_maybe_ my house—when I was still living at home. I never saw you there."

"Of course not! I normally never meet anyone besides my client and maybe one trusted servant. Llewellyn is unique since his wife is in the room, too. Kids? Fuck no! I don't deal with kids. Had a client once who wanted to have his teenage daughter watch. I called off the deal. If they're underage, I'm outta there. I'm a sadist, not a pedophile."

"Out of curiosity: you said it's a fixed date. What day?"

"Second Tuesday of the month."

"What?" Freed yelled. "They said those were charity balls."

"Huh! I always wondered why the hell she insisted on calling me Charity. I thought it was an inside joke."

"The joke was on _us!_" Freed shouted. "Lying to their own kids."

"Oh please! Like they could tell you the truth. What are they even supposed to tell you? Are you going to tell them about you, what sort of things you like? You do realize, if by some miracle I'm ever invited to a family dinner, your parents are going to recognize me in a heartbeat. They'll probably guess what we do together. Would you bring it up? Compare kinks with your father? Debate handcuffs to rope, paddles to belts, sounding to e-stim?"

"Oh fuck," Freed groaned, collapsing his head down into his hands.

"The other option is you pretend we're a happy, normal, totally-not-into-BDSM couple, your parents pretend like we're meeting for the first time, we all lie to one another, and your family sweeps the whole thing under the rug."

"That might be for the best," Freed grumbled. "Is there any way you can maybe _not_ have my dad as one of your clients?"

"Yeah, I could drop him. I've dropped many clients. I have no reason to do so, though, and no longer seeing Llewellyn after three years would be way too suspicious. It also wouldn't erase the fact that they know me. I wouldn't drop him, anyway."

"Why the hell not?" Freed screamed. "He's my _father_!"

"He's also one of the best clients I have. He's not a pervert, he has never propositioned me for sex, mostly because he wouldn't dare with his wife in the room, and he pays damn good."

"Laxus," Freed whined.

"You knew I do this. Whether if it's your father, your brother, an uncle, who I hit shouldn't matter. It's not sexually appealing to me. Especially with Llewellyn and Liberty, I know I'm just the warm-up. I'm honestly a bit touched that she spoils him and accommodates him enough to get a professional sadist for him, rather than insisting he not get hit at all, or even worse, divorcing him just because he happens to be a masochist."

Laxus looked aside gruffly. He never, ever, in all the millions of worries he had when it came to him and Freed, thought that maybe Freed knew one of his clients, let alone is own father.

"You beat my father … while … while thinking about how to _kill_ your own father," Freed said softly, and he suddenly screamed again, "Don't you see how fucked up that is to me?"

Laxus just stared at him. He had no clue what he could even say, besides facts. "I hit a lot of people's fathers. They pay me to do it. They call the shots, not me. I agree to what they want, but the thing with being a sadist is you have to stop when they say stop. Otherwise, it's just torture and abuse, and that's illegal. I don't torture. I'll torture the living shit out of my father when the time comes, but these men … I don't torture them. I beat them because they _want_ it. I never do more than what they pay me to do."

"Laxus, this is _not_ helping." Freed buried his face down into his hands as the emotions overflowed and drenched his eyes.

"It's not meant to help. I don't know if I _can_ help you. I … I really like you, Freed. I do. But I'm not changing who I am just for you. I hate the sorts of people who change themselves to meet the expectations of others. You knew I did this to rich old men. Your father is in that category. You knew I do this sort of thing, and you said it was okay. If it's not okay, if this isn't going to work, then even if I drop your father as a client, it'll never fully work out between us. You'll always be thinking about your dad, what I do, and hating me for it."

"So is that it?" Freed asked scathingly. "Is this over?" He sniffled and shook his head in disbelief. This was supposed to be a wonderful night. Instead, it was a living nightmare.

Laxus hated seeing the tears gathering on his eyelids. It pained him deep inside, but he knew that giving in was not ever going to make this issue go away. If it was a problem now, it would always be a problem, no matter who his clients were.

"That's your call," Laxus said softly. "I don't hate you for being the son of a man I hit. Do you hate me for being the man who hits your father?"

Freed pulled at his green hair in anguish. "Hell if I know," he whispered. Then he suddenly glared up. "Did you ever jerk my father off?"

"I already told you, no," Laxus said firmly.

"Did he ever … ever … _come_ while you were hitting him?"

"No. Liberty never lets it get that far."

"Oh God, my mother!" Freed groaned, flopping backward on his bed in surrender. "This is seriously the most fucked up thing I have ever learned about my family, and that's saying something. Literally _fucked up_!"

Laxus shouted at him, "I do _not_ fuck clients."

"No, you just prepare him for my mother."

"That's right, I do. I hit him for about half an hour once a month, that way he and Liberty—"

"_I don't want to know!_" Freed screamed.

Laxus leaned back in his chair and scratched his head. Once, early on in this sort of career, his client was sloppy, the wife came home, and she went ballistic. Laxus simply left. He walked out with the client still handcuffed to the bed, plug in his ass, and let the woman rage however she wanted. He was not paid to be a bodyguard to these men. If they were sloppy, he was out of there.

Part of him nagged that this was the same sort of thing. He should walk out, get away from this place, escape before things turned explosive, and never return.

Then he looked at Freed, at the green hair splayed across the bed, love bites on his neck and chest, and those thin limbs taut with muscles shining pale through the robe that had split slightly apart. He heard soft snuffles, and Laxus' heart ached to know that this was so painful to the man he cared for so much, the first man he had ever made love to.

Instead of the instinct to leave a volatile situation, he instead stood up and walked over to the bed. He gently sat down, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. He looked uncertain what to do. His hand raised, but he stared at it, as if that hand had a mind of its own. The hand moved, the fingers rested on Freed's head, and still not fully sure what he was doing, Laxus began to pet Freed's head consolingly.

He had never done something like this before. Even as a child, when he found his mother crying about his father, he never tried to comfort her, because he had no clue how to help. Now, he felt like his body was acting on its own.

"Think of it this way," he said softly. "Your mother loves your father very much. Even I can tell that. She's spoiling him. She loves him enough to put up with the man he is. She's not trying to change him. She goes so far to help him find happiness in their relationship that she brings in professional help. It must be hard on her, knowing she can't do it all herself, knowing she could never fully please him on her own, and accepting that she can't give him what he needs. She admits her weakness, and she's willing to do anything—anything at all—to make him happy. I'm sure she realizes the consequences; I make sure all of my clients do. If it's discovered that they hire a stripper for BDSM play, their social and political life is over." He stroked down the soft hair. "Don't make this harder on your parents. Don't think badly of them. Your mother loves your father very much, and he is lucky as hell to have a woman like her. Frankly, I feel a bit honored that, instead of helping some fat bastard get his kicks behind his wife's back, for the Justines I'm helping a husband and wife stay together and keep being happy in their marriage. That makes them unique, and it makes me damn respectful of your mother. She's a hell of a lady. So don't hate your father for being a masochist, and don't hate your mother for trying to give him what he needs."

"I'll … try," he whispered. "Have you ever kissed my dad?"

"No. I don't kiss clients, plus your mother has a no-physical-touching clause in her contract with me. That includes with my lips."

"Have you ever … y'know … stayed around and watched them?"

Laxus sneered. "Oh _God_ no! The most I've seen is them hugging one another."

"So it's … it's really nothing more than a contract to you, huh?"

Laxus gave a shrug. "They're a client. I have many. I have no emotional attachment to any of my clients. Some I like more than others simply because they're polite and not perverted. Your parents are probably my second favorite."

Freed peeked out the side of his eyes and managed to smirk. "Only second?"

Laxus sighed silently in relief to see him smile again. "I've got one client who sends me home with not only the money we agree upon, but a bottle of Blue Label and a voucher for a free dinner at the restaurant his company owns, and I can drink all the booze I want on the ride to his place and the ride back home. He's my favorite. Free food and all-you-can-drink booze: total win! Your parents aren't half bad, though. They pick me up in a limo with an acupressure specialist riding along in the back who does this massage thing on my wrist that makes me totally not sick on the whole ride there. It's a pretty sweet deal."

"Maybe I should learn acupressure for you," Freed teased. "I want to spoil my boyfriend."

Laxus' mouth dropped, shocked to hear him so accepting. "You … you still want to be boyfriends?"

Freed's face looked agonized. "I really don't want to lose you."

Impulsively, Laxus leaned down over Freed and kissed him hard. Lithe hands threaded up Laxus' muscular neck and tickled the back of his blond hair, sending shivers through his spine and straight down to his groin.

"You look like your mother, you know," he said between kisses.

"Are you saying I look feminine?" Freed teased, leaning his chin up as Laxus nibbled down his throat.

"Nope, just the hair and your eyes. She's a nice looking lady, and you've got all the best parts of her. But this?" He stroked where the robe had split open and showed off a penis quickly rising to attention. "This part here? This is all unique. I may have seen lots of cocks, but none as amazing as this. You should be proud of this pecker and let me admire it."

Freed cried out as Laxus stroked down hard.

"And your voice, too. Sexy as fuck. I love hearing all the noises I can get you to make."

"Nnnngh … so good," Freed whimpered, fisting up his sheets already as Laxus stroked him. "Ahhhhn!"

"You're getting wet from just this much. Horny bastard. You can't get enough, can you?" he teased, and Laxus lightly bit Freed's nipple. A sharp cry shuddered out as Freed's spine arched up. "Damn, you're already making me hard again, you sexy little slut."

"Laxus?" Freed moaned, writhing as those broad hands caressed him in all the ways he loved. "Maybe … can we … again?"

"Heh! Do you want another go?"

"I want to know you're mine."

"Only yours," Laxus whispered, kissing Freed as he grew harder. "Only you."

* * *

When Loke came in, the lights were out except for a lamp left on by his bed so he could see. It was the same arrangement he usually had with Freed, a desk lamp left on so he was not blind and fumbling in the dark. In the shadows, he saw that massive blond with Freed curled up on his chest. Loke was not gay, but even he thought it was a sweet scene.

Grinning mischievously, he pulled out his cellphone. He wanted to show Freed how cute he was. He was sure Freed would love a picture to commemorate this night, too. He tilted the lamp just a little to light up the two, made sure the camera flash was off so he would not startle them, and snapped a picture.

"I want a copy," came a deep murmur.

Loke jolted, shocked Laxus was awake, but then he grinned. "I'll send it to your phone in the morning. Is he okay?"

"Amazing," Laxus muttered, and immediately he was back to sleep.

"Lucky guy," Loke smirked, and he silently went to his bed.

**End of Chapter 15**


	16. The Justines

_A/N: Just to clarify something, I don't know the names of Freed's parents. The manga has not mentioned them yet. I picked the name "Liberty" to match the name "Freed," and Llewellyn was randomly chosen while reading "Catching the Thread: Sufism, Dreamwork, & Jungian Psychology" by Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee.  
_

* * *

Chapter 16

**The Justines**

Laxus stood on a street corner, the same spot he always stood at this time on this particular day.

As punctual as a Timex, a limousine pulled up, and the driver stepped out.

"Mister Thor," he greeted, and he opened the car door, allowing Laxus to climb in. Flute music played in the limo, and there was an elderly lady with powder-pink hair in the backseat.

"Nice to see you again, Mister Thor," she greeted. "A drink first, or your arm?"

"Not thirsty, Porlyusica," he grumbled, and he handed his arm over to her, palm up. She began to massage his wrist as the driver took off. Then she reached up and rubbed a spot just behind his ear.

"You're tense," she commented.

"It's been a rough week," he said sullenly.

"Well, try not to inconvenience the Justines."

Laxus said nothing as he rode along in the limo with blacked-out windows.

After a bit of a drive, the car stopped, and the driver opened the door. A butler stood waiting, dressed primly, face gaunt and serious. Silently, he led Laxus through an underground parking garage, into an elevator, and through some halls. Laxus walked behind, but when they came to the door which the butler held open, Laxus hesitated.

_'It means nothing. Freed knows it means nothing. He's fine with this. It's all fine. Just because it's his father, Freed knows it means nothing. He's just a client. It doesn't matter who he is.'_

"Sir?" the butler asked quietly.

Laxus jolted only a little before striding through the door. It shut and locked behind him.

Inside were two people, a husband and wife. The man had brown hair and wore glasses. Laxus had to admit, he saw the similarity between this man and Freed's sister, Evergreen. The woman was thin with flowing green hair. Seriously, how could he have not realized it was the same shade as Freed's hair? He just never really _looked_ at clients, and especially not at Liberty Justine, since she was not a person he worked on. She was just a spectator.

This time, however, Llewellyn was not already naked. Both husband and wife wore nice clothes, something tailor-made and probably a classy brand, although Laxus hardly cared about that sort of thing. They also stood a bit apart from one another.

Liberty spoke with a chime-like voice. "Thor, sorry for making you come all the way here, but we had no clue how to contact you besides returning to that … club." She tried to make it not sound distasteful, she really did. She totally failed. "We regret to inform you that your services are no longer required."

It was the most formal dismissal he had ever received, and Laxus' mouth dropped. "What?"

"I know, you've been very indulgent with our … unique arrangement," she said stiffly. "However, this will no longer be an issue. Llewellyn and I are getting a divorce."

"Divorce?" he asked in shock. Normally, he would have just said "Oh," and demanded some sort of payment for wasting his time. Now, knowing who these two were, he was worried. Freed thought the world of his parents—his reaction to the news about his father showed just how much he thought they were a perfect, happy family. He was going to be devastated.

Llewellyn cleared his throat and explained, "You've been instrumental in keeping us together for the past three years. However, now that our youngest child has gone off to college, it's time for Liberty and I to stop fooling ourselves. Even with this arrangement, it just won't work."

"We do sincerely appreciate your … indulgence," she said, again picking her words carefully. "We will of course pay you for the full amount today, and a severance pay for breaking our contract with you without warning. If there are any … hidden fees … hush money … we will pay that as well."

"I don't snitch on clients," Laxus told her. "You two have been good to me. Want me to promise not to rat on you? Toss in a bottle of Blue Label and we'll call it even."

"Of course," she smiled. "It's nice to know that _some_ men are easy to please."

_Oh, that wasn't bitter or anything! _

"So," Laxus said awkwardly, "I know it's none of my damn business but … why the sudden change? Do you need it more often? Is that it? I'm willing to negotiate."

"That's _partly_ the problem," Llewellyn admitted, eying his wife hesitantly.

Liberty coldly replied to her husband, "I thought if it was a man, you'd behave. Obviously, that was a false assumption." She bristled and looked over to Laxus. "Be honest, Thor: if I hadn't been in this room every time, would you have … _touched_ him?"

Laxus stared at her stoically. "I do what I'm paid to do, ma'am, so long as it's something I agree to do."

"Then you would have?"

"If there's a restriction in the contract I signed—which there is, in this case—then no, I wouldn't. I don't break my contracts."

"You're an honest man." She glared over scathingly to Llewellyn. "Better than my husband." She walked past them. "If you'll excuse me, I must check with the kitchen staff to procure a bottle of Blue Label. Thor, consider your contract still in effect until you leave this house."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, respectfully moving out of her way as she stormed through the entryway. The butler shut the door again on the two men. "Spitfire of a wife you've got there, Mister Justine."

"Frankly, I'm glad it'll soon be _ex-_wife." Llewellyn let out a long sigh. "It's been hell living with her all these years. Do you like cigars?"

"Love 'em," Laxus said, following the man over to a desk. He opened the drawer and pulled out a sterling silver container lined with Cuban cigars. Llewellyn sniffed one, cut the end, lit it, and handed it to Laxus.

"You never asked about how we got into this situation."

"It wasn't my place to question," Laxus admitted. "I normally don't care."

"Smart man," Llewellyn said, puffing on his own cigar. "Getting between a man and his wife is dangerous. You managed with professionalism that surprised both of us, given your young age. Hell, you're not much older than my eldest son."

Laxus froze and looked up sharply.

"This will be hard to break to the children," he sighed regretfully. "It'll be the worst Christmas ever, but there's no point in keeping up the façade." He glanced over. "How about you? Doing anything for the holidays?"

"Not sure," Laxus muttered. He wondered if coming with Freed was a good idea after all. It would be awkward as hell no matter what happened with this rich family.

"You know," Llewellyn said quietly, sounding hesitant, "once the paperwork is finalized, I won't be under Liberty's thumb."

He rubbed his hand up Laxus' arm. The blond gawked at him. It was the first time Llewellyn had ever actually touched him in the three years he had known the Justines.

"Sir," Laxus said stiffly, "Liberty said my contract is still in effect until I leave this house."

"Yes, which says that you are not allowed to physically touch me. She never wrote in that contract that I was not allowed to touch you. I deal with contracts every day, Thor. I know damn well how to manipulate one." His hand stroked over Laxus hair, down the back of his neck, and across the broad shoulders. "I've wanted to touch you for so long. You've been amazing. Simply enthralling. I'm sure you hear this all the time, but … I often fantasize about you. I used to sneak out and go to that club where you dance."

Laxus jolted at that piece of news. "You go to the South Pole Club?"

"I haven't been there in months, not since I once saw my son go into that club. I knew he was gay, but … strippers! I guess he really does take after me," Llewellyn laughed, but Laxus felt his stomach twist. "Tell me, what's the _usual_ frequency of your clients?"

"It varies vastly," Laxus said cautiously, not liking where this was going.

"The most frequent?" he asked eagerly.

"I had one a while back who wanted it weekly."

"That's not enough." Llewellyn's hand went down to Laxus' thigh and rubbed up slowly. "I want you every day, exclusively."

Laxus pushed Llewellyn's hand away with the edge of the cigar, making sure not to touch him but also not to burn him. "I can't do that, sir."

"I'll pay you twice whatever you make at that club, and all of your other clients combined." Llewellyn grinned with a bit of haughtiness. "I'm a very wealthy man. I can match any price. Tell me how much they pay you, and I'll pay double, even triple."

Laxus cringed. "Sir…"

"I'll handle any debts, any legal issues. And money to your family, if that's the trouble."

"I'm in a relationship," Laxus blurted out. "I can't be exclusively yours."

"Well, obviously it's not a _serious_ one if you're still doing this sort of work."

Laxus' eyes glared. "Excuse me?" he sneered quietly.

"I don't mean that badly."

"You're questioning my devotion to the man I love. I don't see how that is anything _but_ an insult."

"Oh, then you _are_ gay? I was never sure, to be honest."

Laxus just glared at him.

"You're truly incredible, Thor. You're the best dominant I have ever had." His hand stroked through the blond hair again, fascinated by the shine. "I have touched myself while thinking about you for the past three years. Once a month wasn't enough. I asked Liberty to increase it, but she only wanted to make love once a month. Frankly, half the time we … _didn't_ after you left. She treated these days as just a burden, a _nuptial requirement_. Forgive me, Thor," he said, bowing his head, "but I sought out someone else. I desperately needed something more. He just wasn't as good as you. Even though he would touch me, even bang me, it wasn't _you_."

"Bang you?" Laxus asked. "I guess that's why Liberty got mad, huh?"

"Yes, she hired a private investigator and caught on … again," he said, rolling his eyes.

Laxus was reminded that he was brought in to save their marriage after Llewellyn had been caught in fetish clubs.

"Thus, the divorce," he said lightly with a guilty but playful shrug.

"I really can't blame her," Laxus sneered.

"Well, what else is a man supposed to do when his wife no longer wants to give him pleasure? She humored me, but I need someone who actually wants it, not just does it because it keeps her husband tamed. I need someone who wants me, wants to dominate me, scold me, humiliate me … and that's just not Liberty."

His fingers touched Laxus' lightning bolt shaped scar, but the blond pulled back before those fingers could stroke down his cheek.

"She's a dear woman, don't get me wrong," he added wholeheartedly. "We had fifteen wonderful years together. This … _need_ … requirement … it began shortly after my youngest was born. I managed to ignore it for a few years, then I tried to ease Liberty into it, but when it became obvious that she had no desire whatsoever to do what I needed, we stopped having sex. I couldn't get hard even if she was in the mood, since she would never do the things I needed to find arousal. Rather than pills or sex therapy, we just decided to abstain, or so we told one another. We slept in separate rooms, which is common enough. Meanwhile, I went to places where I knew I could get what I craved."

His hand raced up Laxus' thigh again. Laxus almost slapped it away, but his contract forbade physical touching. He cringed as those fingers reached his groin and groped. Lots of men in the strip club had felt him there, but this time it was worse. This was Freed's father! It made the touches more disgusting, and Laxus looked aside with sickness, straining to hold himself back from lashing out.

"After ten years, I got sloppy, she grew suspicious, I got caught…" Llewellyn gave a wide shrug. "The rest is my world with you, three years of incredible bliss, a life-shattering shift from wanting women to suddenly desiring a man." His hand stroked the crotch, and his eyebrows drooped in disappointment. "Nothing?"

"It's not easy to get me aroused," Laxus said stolidly, not looking at his face.

"I want to know how. I want to feel it!" His other hand went through Laxus' hair some more. "Your hair is much softer than I imagined. But here…" He stroked persistently through the leather pants. "I want to feel how hard you can get. I want to be the one to make you hard."

Laxus cringed but did not pull back. "Sir."

"Please, Thor," he begged, clinging desperately onto the bulky biceps. "I need someone like you, someone who can really make me aroused. I'll cater to everything you could ever want. Money, cars, a house, or you can live with me, together, so that every night you can dominate me. Will that make you hard?" he asked hopefully. "Are you like me? Can you only get hard when you're punishing me?" Both hands caressed Laxus' cheeks, and he began to lean in, breathing fast with arousal. "God, I want you to punish me."

Laxus yanked his head aside. "Don't you dare kiss me!"

"Of course not. I'll obey anything you say," he smiled with eagerness. "Anything you want of me, or want to deny me. Just tell me what to do," he moaned sensually.

"Stop petting my goddamn hair," he growled.

"Of course." His hand pulled away. "I can be obedient. I can give you anything. I will spoil you to my dying day, and even after I'm gone, you won't want for money." He rubbed his cheek against Laxus' arm. "Think about it. No more dancing. No more perverted clients. Just you and me."

"I told you, I have someone."

"Then leave him. I'll even provide him with funds."

"You mean you'd buy him off," Laxus sneered.

Llewellyn chuckled slyly. "I bet for enough money, he would leave us alone. You'll see how fickle that other person is." He took hold of Laxus' cheek. "He doesn't love you like I do. Three years, Thor! That's how long I've loved you. He could never spoil you like I can." Slowly, he leaned in closer, eyes lowering, lips trembling. "I want to indulge you, like you've indulged me all these years. Please let me … master."

Laxus rose up in a flash and punched Llewellyn across the face, knocking him to the ground. He glared down with hard eyes and seethed, "Don't you ever fucking call me that."

He turned and strode out of the room. Just then, Liberty was coming up with the butler. She saw her husband on the floor holding a bleeding nose.

"What … what's going on here?" she cried out.

"Thor!" Llewellyn called out in misery. "Please, master."

Laxus spun around. "I said _don't_! I said don't kiss me, you tried anyway. I said don't call me master, and you did it anyway! What sort of submissive are you?"

"I'll obey! I will! Please," he cried out, crawling on the floor.

"Fuck you. You say you're in love? You love Thor. _I am not Thor!_" he bellowed. "I have my own life and a man I love. I don't care how much money you give me, you would still be nothing more than a client, and I have never—ever—fucked a client. If you think something as stupid as money could bribe my boyfriend, you obviously have forgotten what _real_ love is truly like." He then looked over to Liberty. "Sorry, ma'am. I broke our contract. I touched him."

"What?" Liberty asked, aghast.

"Yeah, my fist accidentally touched his cheek," he smirked wryly. "Forget your damn severance pay. Just pay for my time here and gimme the booze. I need the booze now," he growled.

"No, take the whole amount. Bas," she said to the butler, and the diligent man whipped out a money clip to count out the cash. "Whatever my idiot husband said, please try to forget it."

"I plan to." He snatched away the wad of money and the box containing the high-end scotch whiskey. He began to walk away, but he suddenly paused and looked back around. "About Christmas … don't tell Freed about the divorce then. He's really looking forward to spending the holiday as a nice _normal_ family."

Liberty gasped, and Llewellyn rose to his feet with a stern glare.

"How do you know that name?" the man asked, none of the whimpering from earlier in his voice.

Laxus saw now the cutthroat businessman that Mister Llewellyn Justine had grown up to become. "I told you, I'm in a serious relationship. It's with a young man by the name of Freed Justine."

Liberty's hand flew up to her mouth. "You … and our son?"

"Did you hurt my boy?" Llewellyn growled.

"I've never hurt him beyond what he wants," Laxus swore. "I treat him gently, far more gently than I've ever treated you or anyone else. He's a good kid, and he's very precious to me."

Liberty looked pale. "My son … and a stripper?"

Laxus looked at her earnestly. "I swear, I didn't know he was your son before I fucked him."

Liberty's eyes began to roll back, and she sank faintly. The butler rushed forward to catch her.

Laxus waved behind his back as he walked away. "No need to escort me; I know the way out. Oh, and don't say anything about _this_ to Freed on Christmas, either. I want him to have a good time while he's at home. If he ends up having a shitty Christmas holiday, I'll beat you, and not in a way to make you aroused. See ya."

He kept walking and entered the elevator alone.

**End of Chapter 16**


End file.
